Obsessions
by Freelancer
Summary: 1944-45. Professor McGonagall is the newest faculty member. Tom Riddle causes trouble. Professor Dumbledore and Professor Dippet find themselves in love with the same woman. And Professor Grindelwald has nothing but good intentions... right?
1. Welcome to Hogwarts

DISCLAIMER: I own nothing. Please don't sue.  
  
SUMMARY: Set during the Grindelwald years. Minerva McGonagall is asked to take a position as Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor at Hogwarts. When she gets there, she finds herself dealing with love, lust, a crush, an obsession, and two wizards that will stop at nothing to win her. On top of this, a mysterious dark power has his sights set on conquering the wizarding world. How will Hogwarts defend themselves when it turns out to be one of their own?  
  
~~~  
  
CHAPTER ONE: WELCOME TO HOGWARTS  
  
~~~  
  
It was a warm, sunny afternoon in mid August of 1944. A young Auror named Tom Marvolo Riddle was walking back to his office in the Ministry of Magic's Department of Magical Law Enforcement with about half a dozen letters in his hand. Only two of the letters were his, though. The other four were addressed to his partner, Minerva McGonagall. Riddle needed to go to the owlery anyway, so he offered to pick up her mail while he was down there, to which Minerva accepted and thanked him profusely. She was practically swimming in paperwork from a recent raid and had to get it done as quickly as possible.  
  
Riddle reached Minerva's office and knocked once on the door. "Go away!" came her voice. "I am extraordinarily busy!"  
  
He smiled and looked at the first letter in his hand. "Too busy to read a letter from..." He paused, and did a double take at the letter. "From Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry?"  
  
He heard the sound of a chair sliding backward and footsteps coming toward the door. The door opened, and in the doorway stood the only witch in their sqaud, Minerva McGonagall. She was a few inches shorter than him in height, standing at about five feet nine inches tall, with dark blue eyes and hair the color of obsidian. She normally wore a pair of glasses with sqaure-shaped frames for astigmatism, but at the moment, they were in her hand as she stared at Riddle in disbelief. "Hogwarts?" she repeated. "What do they want?"  
  
Riddle shrugged. "I don't know." He handed her the letter. "Why don't you read it?"  
  
She took the letter from him and walked over to her desk, beckoning him to come inside with her hand. "And shut the door," she said as she sat down.  
  
He did, and then walked over to her desk. "What is it?"  
  
Minerva gasped and covered her mouth with her hand. "Tom... this is from Professor Dippet."  
  
Armando Dippet was the headmaster of Hogwarts. Both Riddle and Minerva were former Hogwarts students. She had been in Gryffindor house and graduated four years ago; he was a former Slytherin who graduated last year. Riddle thought Dippet a nice enough person, but a little too unambitious to be the headmaster of a school like Hogwarts. "What does he want?" he asked.  
  
"Professor Mahler has retired as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher," she read. "And..." She stopped reading and dropped the letter.  
  
"What?" Riddle asked, smiling. "Come on, Minerva, you're going to kill me with the suspense."  
  
"They want me to take the position."  
  
Riddle couldn't believe his ears. "Really?" he said. "That's wonderful!" He threw his arms around her and hugged her tightly. She returned the embrace, but not nearly as enthusiastically. "So, are you going to take it?"  
  
"I need longer than five seconds to think about something like this, Tom."  
  
He flashed her his charismatic smile that would have made most women melt. She didn't even blink. "You'll be perfect for the job," he said. "Who would make a better DADA teacher than an Auror?"  
  
"But it's not even my specialty," said Minerva. "Transfiguration is."  
  
"Well, just hope that Professor Dumbledore is the next one to retire, and maybe you'll be asked to teach Transfiguration next," said Riddle. "This is what's known as an 'opporunity', Min. Take it. What have you got to lose?"  
  
She cringed. She hated when he called her Min. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were trying to get rid of me, Tom Riddle."  
  
"Get rid of you?" He smiled. "Never."  
  
Minerva forced a small smile. She should have figured as much. He'd always had a thing for her, ever since they were students, and it annoyed her to no end. There was just something about him that creeped her out, although she couldn't put her finger on exactly what it was. "I've got a lot of work to do," she said. "Maybe you should-"  
  
"You've always got a lot of work to do," he interrupted with just a hint of frustration to his voice. "Take a break every once in a while. Let me take you out to dinner tonight. Come on, it'll be fun."  
  
That was the third time this week he'd asked her out. Some people just don't know how to take no for an answer. "I've really got a lot of work, Tom. Maybe some other time."  
  
That's what you always say, Riddle thought to himself. He set her other three letters down on her desk, slapped on a fake smile, and said, "All right, I understand. Let me know what you decide about that job."  
  
Minerva didn't get right back to work after he left. Instead, she read the letter from Hogwarts over two more times. She wasn't quite sure if this was really happening or if it was just some crazy dream.  
  
Dear Ms. McGonagall,  
In all my years as a teacher, I have never before seen a student with as much motivation and dedication as you displayed during your seven years as Hogwarts. The rest of the Hogwarts faculty shares this opinion of you, and because of your outstanding reputation and skill well beyond your years, we are extending this invitation to you. Professor Angela Mahler, our Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, has decided to retire after thirty-five years on staff. When we were discussing potential replacements, your name came up, and we agreed that you would be the best one for the job. Will you accept the position of Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry? Please send your reply as soon as possible.  
Yours sincerely,  
Armando Dippet  
Headmaster, Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry  
  
Minerva stared at the letter for a few more minutes, and then began to compose her reply.  
~~~  
Dear Professor Dippet,  
I would be honored to join the Hogwarts staff as Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, and I will do my best to live up to your expectations. Thank you.  
Yours sincerely,  
Minerva McGonagall  
  
Armando Dippet set the letter down, and with a wide smile on his face, began scrawling a message to the deputy headmaster, his closest friend and cofindent: We have a new teacher.  
~~~  
Minerva arrived at Hogwarts two days after receiving the letter from Dippet. Her fellow Aurors were sad to see her go, especially Tom Riddle, but happy for her just the same. As much as she loved being an Auror, she wasn't too upset about retiring from the job. It was dangerous, had long hours, and the pay wasn't so great, either. It paid a lot better than a lot of other jobs within the Ministry, but most Aurors, including herself, felt the job was underpaid for all the risk invovled. She doubted being a teacher would pay better or be less risky, but at least it would get her away from Riddle. She didn't know how much longer she would be able to put up with him.  
  
Armando Dippet was waiting for her just inside the entrance hall. He was a former Ravenclaw with dark gray hair and friendly brown eyes. He smiled warmly and said, "Welcome back, Minerva... or should I say, Professor McGonagall?"  
  
Professor McGonagall. She loved the sound of that. "Thank you, Professor Dippet." She looked around the entrance hall, and memories from her days at school flooded her mind. "It's good to be back."  
  
"You may call me Armando," he said. "After all, we're colleagues now, and I imagine we'll become friends as well. Let me show you to the staff room. Several of the other teachers are in there right now. You probably know them all from your time here, except maybe Professor Stravinsky, she joined us two years ago, but anyway, I need to introduce you to them as an instructor. Do you mind?"  
  
She gave her consent, and the two of them began walking to the staff room. On their way, they passed Peeves the poltergeist, who was doodling on the wall with some chalk. "You'd better clean that all off before Mr. Pringle comes by, Peeves," Dippet warned him.  
  
Peeves dropped his chalk. "Professor Dippet!" he exclaimed. Then, his eyes grew wide as he saw who was with the headmaster. "I know you!" he said, pointing at Minerva. "You're that Gryffindor girl who all the teachers wished the rest of the students were like, although I can't see why, since all you ever did was study, study, study..."  
  
"Now, Peeves," Dippet said, "that really isn't necessary."  
  
"They always talked about you," Peeves continued. "Don't worry; they all like you. I remember Professor Dumbledore saying once that if you weren't a student-"  
  
Minerva's eyes grew wide. "What?"  
  
Peeves snapped his fingers and vanished.  
  
"Don't mind him," said Dippet. "Come, the staff room is just over here."  
  
There were four teachers in the staff room. Dippet was clearly expecting more, and a look of moderate disappointment crossed his face when they entered. "Well, I guess this will have to do for now," he said. "Everyone, may I have your attention, please?"  
  
Minerva's eyes fell upon a certain blue-eyed, auburn-haired wizard playing chess with another staff member, and her heart gave an excited leap. Albus Dumbledore. She'd always admired the Transfiguration instructor. It would have been her favorite subject even if it had been taught by the dreadfully dull Professor Binns, but since it was him, it made it even more fascinating. Dumbledore was also the head of her house, Gyrffindor, which gave them even more common ground. They saw a lot of each other during her time as a student, and now that she was a teacher, too, they would probably be seeing a lot more of each other.  
  
Dumbledore looked up at Minerva at almost the same time she looked at him, and their eyes met. She smiled at him, and he at her. Then, she remembered what Peeves had said a few moments ago. "I remember Professor Dumbledore saying once that if you weren't a student..." What could that mean?  
  
Dippet's voice brought Minerva out of her thoughts. "You already know her, but just the same, it is my honor and privilege to introduce to you the newest member of our faculty, Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor Minerva McGonagall."  
  
The four teachers in the room clapped. Minerva smiled and blushed slightly.  
  
Dippet started at the left end of the room, with a short, plump woman with rosy cheeks and a friendly smile. "Minerva, this is Professor Rachel Revueltas, whom you knew as the Potions instructor, but has since moved on to Arithmancy," he said.  
  
"Welcome to the staff, Professor McGonagall," said Professor Revueltas. She shook Minerva's hand and smiled warmly at her.  
  
"Thank you, Professor," Minerva returned.  
  
The next instructor she was "introduced" to was the Astronomy teacher, a tall, gangly man named Paul Fenner, and then Albus Dumbledore. A shiver of excitement ran up and down her spine as she and Dumbledore shook hands. They took their time in letting go.  
  
Playing chess with Dumbledore was the last teacher in the room, a tall man with dark blonde hair, hazel eyes, and a charismatic smile. "And last, but not least," said Dippet as he began to introduce this man, "is the deputy headmaster, head of Slytherin house, and Charms instructor, Quinn Grindelwald."  
  
"So glad to have you on staff, Minerva," Grindelwald said as he and Minerva shook hands. "Welcome to Hogwarts." 


	2. Can We Change the Subject, Please?

CHAPTER TWO: CAN WE CHANGE THE SUBJECT, PLEASE?  
  
  
  
Once all the introductions were made, Dippet offered to show Minerva her new office, to which she accepted. She and Dumbledore made eye contact for a brief moment one more time before she left. His eyes didn't move from the spot she had been standing in until long after she and Dippet had gone.  
  
When he was sure Dippet and Minerva were out of earshot, Grindelwald said, "I saw that."  
  
"Saw what?" Dumbledore asked innocently, even though he knew perfectly well what the deputy headmaster was talking about.  
  
"Come on, Albus. You can't fool me. You always had a thing for that girl, didn't you?"  
  
"I'm surprised that you would even think that. She was my student. To have a 'thing', as you so crudely put it, would be totally unprofessional."  
  
Grindelwald smiled mischievously, leaned in closer to Dumbledore, and whispered, "She's not your student anymore."  
  
Dumbledore rolled his eyes. "Really, Quinn. I never would have expected this from you."  
  
"Well, I never would have expected you to fall for a student."  
  
"Quinn," said Professor Revueltas in a warning tone of voice.  
  
"Sorry, sorry," said Grindelwald. "Apologies around." He looked at the chessboard. "Knight to E-6. Check."  
  
Dumbledore sighed and looked at the chessboard. "Bishop to E-6. Checkmate." He stood up and said, "If anyone needs me, I'll be in my office."  
  
"Still memorizing the dictionary, eh?" Grindelwald asked.  
  
Dumbledore nodded.  
  
"You mean you really ARE memorizing the dictionary?" inquired an amazed Professor Fenner. He rubbed his forehead and said, "And all this time I thought it was just another one of Quinn's gimmicks."  
  
"How long have you been working on that, anyway?" inquired Professor Revueltas.  
  
"Since my fourth year as a student," Dumbledore answered. "It's really not that difficult... just a few words a day will do you wonders. I'm almost through F."  
  
Fenner looked at Revueltas and said, "Am I the only one who didn't know Albus was memorizing the dictionary?"  
  
Revueltas shrugged and said, "Probably."  
  
"He doesn't get a lot of dates," Grindelwald explained.  
  
Dumbledore groaned. "Quinn, we are NOT having this conversation again. And for future reference, nothing you can say or do will make me change my mind about Min- Professor McGonagall."  
  
He excused himself, and left the staff room. Grindelwald watched him go, and once he was gone, muttered under his breath, "Does that mean she's fair game?"  
  
  
  
"... and that concludes our tour of..." Dippet paused dramatically, and then finished, "Your classroom. I would offer to show you around the rest of the school, but I'm sure you are quite familiar with it."  
  
He had just finished showing the new Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher the room in which she would instruct students in the said field. Minerva smiled and said, "Thank you, Professor Dippet. Yes, I think I will be perfectly capable of finding my way around the school."  
  
"Indeed. And like I said, you may call me Armando. Now, if you'll excuse me, please, I have a lot of work to do."  
  
"I understand."  
  
Before leaving, Dippet smiled at her and said, "Again, welcome to the staff."  
  
"And again, thank you, Prof - Armando."  
  
  
  
Dippet was on his way back to his office when he passed Albus Dumbledore, who appeared to be going in the direction of the Transfiguration classroom. "Beat Grindelwald already, Albus?" Dippet asked with a grin.  
  
Dumbledore had been daydreaming as he walked, and Dippet's comment almost didn't register. "Huh?" he said as he snapped to attention. "Oh, chess... yes, I did."  
  
"I always told Quinn that chess was never his game," said Dippet, nodding his head slightly. "What are you up to?"  
  
"Funicular," Dumbledore answered. He cleared his throat and said, "Adjective; operating by cable with ascending and descending cars counterbalanced. Second definition, noun; funicular railway."  
  
Dippet arched an eyebrow. He, too, knew of Dumbledore's unusual hobby of trying to memorize the dictionary, but unlike most, he also knew that he only did it when something was weighing heavily on his mind. "What is it?"  
  
"What do you mean?" Dumbledore asked innocently.  
  
Dippet gave him a look that clearly said, "You know what I'm talking about."  
  
Dumbledore sighed and leaned against the wall. "It's Quinn," he admitted. "He's, well... he's being Quinn again."  
  
"Ah," Dippet said with a nod. That explained a lot. In the last few years, Grindelwald had taken an interest in Dumbledore's love life, or rather, lack of it, and tried to do something about it. Dumbledore, who was a very private person, asked Grindelwald to stay out of it, but Grindelwald, convinced he could help, refused. The two men were still friends, but every once in a while, this conflict resurfaced. He wondered what could have brought it on this time.  
  
Dippet didn't have to ask, because Dumbledore continued. "He seems to think that I had a 'thing' for Minerva McGonagall when she was a student."  
  
"Did you?"  
  
Dumbledore shot the headmaster of Hogwarts a shocked look. "Armando Dippet!"  
  
Dippet held his hands up defensively. "I'm just asking, Albus. If you did, I won't judge you."  
  
"No!" Dumbledore said. "What kind of teacher would I be? How do you think Minerva would have felt? Do you think she would have trusted me at all, knowing that I was attracted to her? I would not risk losing her trust for anything."  
  
"And yet, I do recall you saying once that if she wasn't a student-"  
  
"'Once' being the operative word in that sentence," Dumbledore interrupted. "Minerva is brilliant, powerful, and I will admit, quite attractive as well, but she was a student. It was a hypothetical situation and will never happen."  
  
"She's not a student any more," Dippet pointed out.  
  
Don't I know it, Dumbledore mused. "That's not the point. It's the principle of the thing."  
  
"You are absolutely head over heels for that woman, aren't you?"  
  
Dumbledore felt like he was trapped in a corner. "No," he insisted. "It's unprofessional, and anyway, she's... she's too young for me."   
  
That was probably the worst excuse he'd ever come up with, and Dippet could tell. "There may be a considerable amount of difference in your ages," he said, "but as far as mental capacity goes, she has the intelligence and power of someone three times her age. She's an adult, Albus, and even as a teenager, she was far from ever being a naive little girl. If you're going to let a little thing like age get in the way, then maybe you don't deserve her."  
  
"What is this?" Dumbledore asked. He felt like banging his head against the wall, but didn't because the last time that happened, the wall cried out. "None of have seen hardly anything of her in four years, and suddenly she comes back and everyone thinks I'm in love with her! Why?"  
  
"You didn't see your face when Minerva and I came into the staff room," Dippet said. "As soon as you saw her, your eyes lit up like I've never seen them before."  
  
"Armando, this has gone far enough. Can't I be happy for the young woman who was once my finest student without everyone taking it the wrong way?"  
  
Dippet couldn't tell if Dumbledore was being serious or if he was just too shy to admit his feelings about her, but regardless, he decided to end it at that. "Very well. I apologize."  
  
Dumbledore sighed and waved his hand dismissively. "Oh, don't worry about it," he said. "I'm sure I'll be getting so much of this from Quinn and Peeves that this conversation won't make much of a difference."  
  
"I'll mention it to Quinn and let him know that it bothers you," Dippet promised. "I don't know what I can do about Peeves, though."  
  
Grindelwald already knew that this sort of thing bothered him, but Dumbledore didn't say that. Peeves would probably lose interest in a few days, but this had been a problem with Grindelwald for years. Now that both of them were in proximity to a woman he had indeed entertained thoughts of being with, there was no telling how far Grindelwald would go. Dumbledore never dreamed of acting on anything he might have felt for Minerva, but that wasn't the point; it was the principle of the thing. There was no telling what would happen if anyone learned about his attraction to her. Dippet would lose faith in his professionalism. Grindelwald would tease the hell out of him. Minerva would think he was some sort of sick pervert and never speak to him again. But it wasn't like he was attracted to all his clever female students; in fact, in all his long years, he'd never been the least bit interested in any woman, student or otherwise, until her. Why this one? What made her so special?  
  
Dippet smiled and said, "Off the record, though, I can see why you like her."  
  
Dumbledore chuckled softly and said, "Maybe Quinn's teasing the wrong person."  
  
"Oh, no, don't take that the wrong way," Dippet quickly said. "It was merely an observation. She's a wonderful person and a valuable addition to the staff. And now, if you will excuse me, I have some work to catch up on."  
  
Dippet continued on his way. Dumbledore waited until the headmaster was out of sight, and then sighed and said, "Yes, she is wonderful." 


	3. The Term Begins

CHAPTER THREE: THE TERM BEGINS  
  
  
  
Two weeks passed, and it was now September first, the start of the term. Minerva McGonagall thought she was going to explode with excitement as she made her way to the Great Hall for the Sorting Ceremony. She had seen seven Sorting Ceremonies in her seven years at Hogwarts, but never from the perspective of a teacher. She wondered what it would be like, seeing the new first-years get sorted and then teaching them magic for the next seven years of their lives. She also wondered how many would get sorted into Gryffindor, her old house. No matter what the outcome was, though, it was sure to be exciting.  
  
"Minerva? Minerva McGonagall?"  
  
She stopped walking. That voice... it was so familiar... Minerva turned around, and saw short, slender, blonde girl about the age of seventeen walking toward her. The girl wore the robes of Gryffindor house, and also a badge with the letters HG on it. She recognized Tracy Keller, who started her first year when Minerva was in her fifth. "Tracy Keller?" she said. "You're - you're Head Girl!"  
  
Tracy smiled. "I sure am. What are you doing here? You graduated four years ago."  
  
"Professor McGonagall," came a voice from behind, "is the new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor."  
  
Tracy and Minerva turned around and saw Armando Dippet standing behind them with a warm, friendly smile on his face. "How do you do, Miss Keller? Did you have a pleasant summer holiday?"  
  
"I'm fine, Professor Dippet, and it was wonderful, thank you," Tracy said, blushing slightly. It was always an honor to receive attention from the headmaster, and even more so since last year, when she and four other sixth-year girls were going through some old newspapers and found a picture of Dippet at a younger age. All five of them unanimously agreed that Dippet bore a striking resemblance to the American film star Humphrey Bogart.  
  
Tracy turned her attention back to Minerva and said, "You're the Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor? But your specialty was always Transfiguration!"  
  
"Professor Dumbledore still teaches that," Minerva said. "I was asked to join the staff when Professor Mahler retired."  
  
Tracy blinked and scratched her head. "Wow. This is just... well, amazing. You're only four years older than I am, and now you're my teacher. I'm blown away."  
  
Dippet pointed out that they needed to get inside the Great Hall so the Sorting Ceremony could begin, and he and Minerva excused themselves. The befuddled Tracy, still in shock over the fact that her former schoolmate was now her teacher, stood just outside the entrance watching them. She couldn't help noticing how Dippet gently touched Minerva's arm as he led her up to the staff table.  
  
"Hi, Tracy," said Nina Brackett, a seventh-year Ravenclaw who was a good friend of her's. "Hurry up, or you'll miss the Sorting Ceremony!"  
  
"Hey, Nina," Tracy said as her friend tugged her into the Great Hall, "have you ever noticed how much Professor Dippet looks like Humphrey Bogart?"  
  
  
  
A few minutes after all the other students were seated at their tables, Quinn Grindelwald led the forty or so new first-years into the Great Hall and gave them instructions. "When I call your name, come up here so I can put the hat on your head," he said. "It will decide which house you should belong in."  
  
Some students looked a little nervous; several others looked slightly relieved.  
  
Grindelwald unrolled the large scroll in his hand and read the first name. "Abraham, Bridget!"  
  
A short girl with big blue eyes and blonde hair in a neat braid stepped up to Grindelwald and sat down on the three-legged stool next to him. He lowered the dirty, ragged hat onto her head. The hat spent a few seconds mumbling to itself, and then shouted, "RAVENCLAW!"  
  
The Ravenclaws cheered as Grindelwald removed the hat and Bridget Abraham joined their numbers. Grindelwald called the next name on the list. "Avante, Warren!"  
  
Warren Avante was a stocky boy of medium height who was sent to Slytherin.  
  
"Baker, Emmitt!"  
  
"HUFFLEPUFF!"  
  
"Bennett, Leslie!"  
  
"GRYFFINDOR!"  
  
Aside from the nearly three minutes the hat spent contemplating where to send "Keys, Bobby!"before finally deciding on Ravenclaw, the Sorting Ceremony was more or less routine. It ended when "Zion, Bella!" was sent to Gryffindor, and Grindelwald took the hat and the stool away. Dippet then rose and gave out several instructions, including reminding the students that the forest was strictly off-limits. He then took a moment to introduce "our new Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor, Professor Minerva McGonagall." All the students applauded, and several seventh-year boys were whistling until a reprimanding look from Professor Dumbledore silenced them.  
  
Grindelwald made his way back inside and took his seat at the staff table between Minerva and Dippet. On Dippet's other side sat Albus Dumbledore, who had been looking rather pleased with the ceremony up until the boys whistled.  
  
"Excited about teaching, Professor?" Grindelwald asked.  
  
It took Minerva a moment to realize that he was talking to her, but when she did, nodded and said, "Yes, very much. Any students I should look out for?"  
  
He shrugged. "I don't know. I don't have a lot of problems with behavior."  
  
She smiled. "I'm not surprised." Most of the students in her year had been terrified of Grindelwald. She had been a little scared of him, too, but it was more out of admiration than fear. She, along with a few others, knew Grindelwald was far more powerful than he let on.  
  
"What group do you have first?" the deputy headmaster inquired. When Minerva gave him a mildly surprised look, he explained, "I'm making conversation. You know, I ask you a question, you respond, I make a comment about your response, and then you make a comment about a comment in my response, and so on and so forth."  
  
She was bordering on laughter as she answered his question. "The third-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs."  
  
"Interesting," Grindelwald said thoughtfully. "I have that same group after your class. I'm sure they'll just be bursting with stories to tell about their first day of Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor McGonagall."  
  
Minerva grinned and said, "We'll find out."  
  
  
  
Grindelwald's prediction was partly correct. The students were indeed bursting with stories to tell about their first day of Defense Against the Dark Arts with Professor McGonagall, but they seemed to be more interested in their teacher than the subject, as he realized by their conversations as they filed into his room for the Charms lesson...  
  
"She's so young."  
  
"She's hot!"  
  
"Shut up, Lyle."  
  
"Can you believe they actually hired a teacher that young?"  
  
"Hey, Conan, didn't your brother say she was Head Girl his first year?"  
  
"Yeah, I think so."  
  
"Who was Head Boy?"  
  
"What does that have to do with anything?"  
  
"I'm just curious."  
  
"Some wacko named Alastor Moody. Rory said he was paranoid."  
  
"I guess history repeats itself. Professor McGonagall and Alastor Moody sound a lot like the Head Boy and Girl we have now."  
  
"Barty Crouch isn't paranoid."  
  
"Ha! You don't sleep in the same tower as him."  
  
"Shut up, Lyle."  
  
"Hey, does anyone know if it's true if she's an Animagus?"  
  
"Of course it's true."  
  
"How do you know?"  
  
"My sister has Transfiguration first, and I saw her on the way over here. She said Professor Dumbledore told them Professor McGonagall is an Animagus."  
  
"How would he know?"  
  
"I'm sure she probably told him. In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if he helped her train to become one."  
  
"Bet you didn't know Dumbledore's sweet on her."  
  
"Shut up, Lyle."  
  
"No, I'm serious! He is!"  
  
"Who told you that?"  
  
"Peeves."  
  
"You mean you actually believe Peeves? Lyle, have you been getting enough sleep?"  
  
"No, I haven't; Barty Crouch's paranoia keeps me up all night."  
  
"Peeves was probably making it up."  
  
"Probably, but you have to admit, he did spend a lot of time looking in her direction at the feast last night."  
  
"Puh-lease. He was turning so he could talk to Professor Dippet."  
  
"You know, now that you mention it, I think I did see them make eye contact one or two times..."  
  
"See!"  
  
"Shut up, Lyle."  
  
"Dumbledore and McGonagall? Eww..."  
  
"What's so gross about that? I think it's cute."  
  
"Well, think about it. For starters, he's so old-"  
  
"He looks good for his age."  
  
"So does Professor Dippet! Have any of you seen the picture Tracy Keller and some other seventh-years found of him when he was younger? I thought I was looking at a picture of Humphrey Bogart!"  
  
"Humphrey Bogart?"  
  
"He's an American film star."  
  
"I know who Humphrey Bogart is, and now that you mention it, Professor Dippet does look kind of like him... a little older, of course, but still..."  
  
"Hey, maybe Professor Dippet IS Humphrey Bogart!"  
  
"Lyle..."  
  
"Shutting up."  
  
Grindelwald felt that was enough conversation, and requested that the students take their seats. They did so without protest and no further discussion on the topic of Minerva McGonagall, and sat quietly and attentively all through his lesson. However, when the bell rang, the conversation picked up almost exactly where it left off. Grindelwald almost felt sorry for Dumbledore - the third-year Gryffindors had Transfiguration next. 


	4. The Attack

CHAPTER FOUR: THE ATTACK  
  
  
  
The term had been under way for a week with almost no problems. There was an incident in the sixth-year Potions class involving swelling solution and a few well-placed Dungbombs, but it was nothing Professor Cypher couldn't handle. Once everyone was restored to their original size and the guilty students given detention, everything returned to normal. However, the Divination instructor, Theodore Chaplain, insisted that the peace wouldn't last, and as much as they all questioned his competence, the rest of the faculty knew he was right. Things never stayed calm around Hogwarts for long.  
  
Armando Dippet was thinking about Professor Chaplain's comments about the calm coming to an end, but soon moved his thoughts on to other things. Chaplain was a good man, but in his opinion, a little peculiar. He made it a point to never wear matching socks, and his favorite thing to do besides take away points from Ravenclaw students (supposedly, the reasoning behind that was he had a grudge against Rowena Ravenclaw because she was tall, and no one was quite certain where that came from) was predict Dippet's death. Quinn Grindelwald would often tease Chaplain by saying something like, "How is Armando going to die this week?" Chaplain would always give an answer, and he was always very serious about it. Then he would warn Grindelwald to watch his back, because he could very well be next.  
  
Dippet turned his mind away from Chaplain and started to compose a reply to the letter he received earlier that day from Tobias Hawkins, the Minister of Magic. Hawkins was growing more and more concerned about the war going on in the Muggle world and how it would affect the wizards. He was also wondering if the wizards should get involved. Dippet had mixed feelings about that issue; it was a Muggle war, and therefore, really none of their business, but on the other hand, Muggles were becoming a bigger part of the wizarding world, and it wouldn't be much longer before half-blood and Muggle-born wizards and witches caught up to the amount of purebloods. Whether they wanted to admit or not, the wizards were a dying race - they had always been outnumbered by Muggles a million to one, and more and more of them were growing old and dying without ever having children. If they wanted to save their world, they had to save the Muggle one first.  
~~~  
  
When he saw that the long, dark hallway was completely deserted, the man wearing the long, dark cloak smiled to himself and made his way over to a statue of a gargoyle standing against the wall. He glanced to the left, and then to the right to make sure no one was coming, and then whispered a single word: "Matterhorn."  
  
The gargoyle slid aside, revealing the entrance to a winding staircase. The man looked around once more to make sure he was still alone, and then began racing up the stairs.  
  
~~~  
  
Dippet was so engrossed in the letter that he didn't even realize someone was coming until the intruder burst into his office. Shocked, Dippet looked up at the strange man in the black cloak, and instantly knew his intentions were to harm. He reached for his wand, but was too slow - the attacker already had his wand out and shouted, "Expelliarmus!"  
  
A blast of red light hit Dippet, and the Hogwarts headmaster fell out of his chair and onto the floor. He lost his wand in the fall and also had the wind knocked out of him, allowing the man to switch his wand in favor of something else - a knife - and come charging at him.  
  
The man leapt over Dippet's desk and brought his knife down. The strike was meant for his heart, but Dippet managed to roll away just in time. It missed its target, but the headmaster didn't get away unscathed - the blade left a long, deep gash in his left arm. He had no time to think about the pain, though. If he didn't act fast, he would lose a lot more than some blood.  
  
Dippet raised a foot and kicked his attacker in the back, causing him to fall forward. He scrambled to his feet and began to look around for his wand, which was nowhere in sight. No more time for that - the man was back on his feet and rushing at him with the knife.  
  
The attacker let out a cry and brought the knife down. Dippet grabbed him by the wrist and snapped it with a quick twisting motion. The man let out a howl of pain and dropped the knife. Dippet took advantage of his enemy's distraction and threw a palm strike at his face. His hand made contact with the man's nose, and Dippet was almost sure he broke that as well.  
  
It was now quite obvious who had won the fight. Dippet located his wand - it was lying a few feet away - and then used it to stun his attacker. Only then did he realize how serious the the wound in his arm was. Not only was it bleeding profusely, it was also deeper than he originally thought - all the way to the bone. He had to tell the rest of the faculty about this attack and then get down to medical.  
  
Dippet placed his right hand over the gaping wound to slow the blood flow and then started down the stairs.  
  
~~~  
  
The first people Dippet saw as he made his way through the school were Albus Dumbledore and Quinn Grindelwald, who were walking in the direction of the staff room together. Shocked looks crossed both of their faces as they laid eyes upon the headmaster. "Armando, what happened to you?" the horrified Grindelwald asked.  
  
"Someone attacked me," Dippet answered, "just now, in my office. I don't know who or why." His mind was starting to go numb from pain and blood loss.  
  
"I'll get Trudy," Grindelwald said, referring to Trudy Burton, the school nurse. Dippet acknowledged this with a nod of his head, and Grindelwald took off running.  
  
Dumbledore noticed that blood was seeping through Dippet's fingers, and he wondered just how badly he was hurt. "Sit down," he advised. "You look like you've lost a lot of blood."  
  
Dippet did as he was told, and Dumbledore knelt down next to him on his right side. "How deep is it?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"To the bone," was Dippet's response. He was glad Dumbledore insisted that he sit down, as he was starting to feel light-headed.  
  
Hurry up, Quinn, Dumbledore thought to himself.  
  
Suddenly, they heard the sound of someone gasping and several large books hitting the floor. "Professor Dippet! What happened?" came the surprised, worried voice of Minerva McGonagall.  
  
"He was attacked," Dumbledore explained as Minerva dropped to her knees on the headmaster's left side.  
  
"Should we get someone from medical?" she asked frantically.  
  
"Quinn just went," Dumbledore answered. "He should be back here soon."  
  
"I stunned the attacker," Dippet said weakly. His breathing had quickened, and his breaths were not as deep. "He's in my office."  
  
Minerva reached for Dippet's left hand. It was covered in blood, both his own and his attacker's, but she didn't care. "Hang on," she told him, squeezing his hand as tightly as she dared. "We'll find out who did this."  
  
Dippet's eyes turned toward her, and he managed a small smile.  
  
"Should we alert the Ministry of Magic?" Dumbledore asked, searching for a way to get back into the conversation. He didn't know why, but seeing Minerva hold Dippet's hand made him anxious.  
  
Dippet slowly nodded. "Yes, I believe that would be in order. You can use Floo powder; the fireplace in the Great Hall is connected to the one in Tobias Hawkins's office for emergency purposes."  
  
"All right." Dumbledore stood up. "I'll go to the Ministry." He looked at Minerva and said, "Stay here."  
  
She hated not being able to do more, but also knew that there was really nothing she could do. "Hurry," she told him, but he was already gone.  
  
~~~  
  
When Tobias Hawkins heard that Dippet was attacked, he almost went through the roof. "WHAT?" he shouted when Dumbledore told him the news. "HOW COULD THAT HAVE HAPPENED? THE MAN IS THE HEADMASTER OF HOGWARTS SCHOOL OF WITCHCRAFT AND WIZARDRY!! HOW THE HELL DID SOMEONE GET IN THERE?"  
  
Dumbledore tried to avoid flinching as the Minister of Magic shouted. "We don't know, sir," he said when Hawkins finished his rant. "I thought we should let you know."  
  
Hawkins nodded. "Good call, Dumbledore. Dippet needs protection. You have to take me there."  
  
Dumbledore motioned toward the fireplace and said, "Let's go, then."  
  
~~~  
  
"I assure you, Tobias, I do not need protection," Dippet told the Minister of Magic as Trudy Burton mended his arm.  
  
Hawkins wasn't convinced. "Security was compromised, Armando," he said. "What reason do we have to believe it won't happen again? Until we can find out who is behind this, you are vulnerable. You need a bodyguard of some sort. I'll speak to McCarthy and see about arranging for an Auror to protect you." Noah McCarthy was the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.  
  
"Minerva was an Auror until two weeks ago," Grindelwald pointed out. "Shouldn't her presence be enough to ward off-"  
  
"She's a teacher now, not an Auror," Hawkins interrupted, "and it didn't prevent this attack from happening." Then, he got an idea. He looked at Minerva and said, "But maybe she knows of someone suitable for the job?"  
  
Minerva thought for a few moments, and then said, "Moody. Alastor Moody. He's the best we've got."  
  
Hawkins nodded approvingly. "Yes, I think I've heard his name a few times. I'll see if McCarthy's willing to let go of Moody for a while and bring him here first thing in the morning."  
  
"Thank you, Minister," said Dumbledore. "We'll be waiting."  
  
Hawkins excused himself, and Grindelwald offered to walk him back to the Great Hall. Trudy put the finishing touches on Dippet's bandaging and said, "That should do it. You'll be able to regain full use of your arm, Professor Dippet, but you'll have to be careful for a few days."  
  
"Thank you, Trudy," Dippet said. Dumbledore helped him to his feet, and after thanking him, the headmaster said, "We should all try to get some rest. There's no sense in worrying about this any longer."  
  
"I'd feel better if you spent the night in the hospital wing, Professor," Trudy said, "just so we could keep a better eye on you."  
  
"So would I," Dumbledore said. "There's more people in there; safety in numbers." Minerva voiced her agreement, and after she did, she and Dumbledore glanced at each other and made eye contact for a moment.  
  
Dippet wasn't too thrilled about being under constant surveillance, but he knew there would be no getting out of this one, so he reluctantly agreed. Trudy escorted her patient to the hospital wing, leaving Dumbledore and Minerva standing alone by the statue of the gargoyle.  
  
After almost a full minute of awkward silence, Minerva spoke. "Who could have done this?"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "I don't know. Armando isn't the type of man who has many enemies."  
  
"Are you and he close?"  
  
"We're friends," he said with a nod. "He's always been closer to Quinn, but they've also known each other much longer."  
  
"Indeed." Her eyes went to the books lying scattered on the floor, and she knelt down and began to pick them up.  
  
"Let me help you," Dumbledore said, and dropped to his knees next to her.  
  
"Thank you," she said as he handed her a book. Once they were all in her arms, they both stood up, and she said, "You know, Professor Dumbledore, we would talk for hours at a time when I was a student, but since I've become a teacher, we've barely exchanged two words. Why is that?"  
  
Dumbledore didn't know whether to give her an honest answer or make something up. Luckily, he was saved from doing either by Grindelwald announcing his return. "I'm back," he said. "Where's Armando?"  
  
"Trudy took him to the hospital wing," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Good. He should be safe there until Hawkins brings Moody here," Grindelwald said. He glanced at the gargoyle and spoke again. "Think we should take that stunned scumbag that attacked Armando down to the dungeons and let Mr. Pringle deal with him, Albus? This is ten times better for him than a student out of bed after hours."  
  
Dumbledore had almost forgotten that the attacker was still up in Dippet's office. "Good idea. We'd better tell Apollyon not to kill him, though; he'll need to be taken in for questioning."  
  
"Do you need my help?" Minerva asked.  
  
Grindelwald smiled at her and said, "Thank you, Minerva, but I think we can handle him. Try to get some rest."  
  
"Very well, then. Good night, Professors."  
  
"Good night, Minerva," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Yes, a very good night to you," Grindelwald added.  
  
Once Minerva was out of earshot, Grindelwald said, "You called her Minerva."  
  
Dumbledore shrugged. "So did you."  
  
~~~  
  
Early the next morning, Dippet, Dumbledore, Grindelwald, and Minerva all went to the entrance hall to meet Hawkins and Moody. Dippet was still against the idea of having a bodyguard, but the rest of the staff insisted it was necessary, so he gave in. Hawkins and Moody were due to arrive any minute, and soon enough, there they were: the Minister of Magic walking up the stairs, followed closely by a man wearing the uniform of an Auror.  
  
But there was a problem.  
  
The man with Hawkins wasn't Alastor Moody.  
  
It was Tom Riddle. 


	5. The Auror

A/N: Two things. 1) The years are messed up. For the sake of this story, pretend the Riddle-gets-Hagrid-expelled thing happened about three years earlier. I'm not quite sure if I could have done this chapter without tweaking that little bit of history. 2) Just for the record... fear not, all you Albus and Minerva fans, I have not jumped ship. What happens at the end of this chapter is for plot-twisting purposes only. Thank you.  
  
~~~  
  
CHAPTER FIVE: THE AUROR  
~~~  
  
  
When Minerva saw Riddle, her mind started to race. What was he doing here? He wasn't supposed to be here. Where was Moody? What the hell was going on?  
  
Riddle made eye contact with her and smiled. "Hello, Minerva."  
  
Struggling to maintain composure and keep her voice at a reasonable level, Minerva said, "What happened to Moody?"  
  
"McCarthy," Hawkins said with more than a little disdain in his voice, "didn't want to give up Moody."  
  
"Moody asked me if I would take the job in his place," Riddle explained.  
  
"He should do fine," Hawkins said to the four professors. "His name was the first out of Moody's mouth, and McCarthy said he was decent, too."  
  
"He's more than decent," Minerva said. Her cold, bitter gaze never left Riddle's face for a second. "After Moody, he's the best Auror the Ministry of Magic has."  
  
"Only since you left," Riddle said with a smile.  
  
She continued to glare at him.  
  
Hawkins could sense the rising amount of tension, and began looking for an out. "I need to get back to London," he said. "If you'll excuse me, please."  
  
They all said good-bye, and when Hawkins left, Riddle gave up on Minerva and walked over to Dippet. "Good to see you again, sir," he said, and shook his hand.  
  
"Same to you, Riddle, although I wish it was under different circumstances," said Dippet. "How was your first full year away from Hogwarts?"  
  
Riddle glanced at Minerva for a second, and then answered Dippet's question. "All right. It's good to get out in the world and see what I can become."  
  
"Spoken like a true Slytherin," Grindelwald said with a proud smile. He'd always liked Riddle, and not just because he was in his house.  
  
Riddle smiled at Grindelwald. "It's good to see you, too, Professor Grindelwald."  
  
He found it harder to keep smiling when he turned to Professor Dumbledore. The two had never been very fond of each other, and Dumbledore was giving him the same suspicious look Minerva was. "Hello, Professor Dumbledore," he said. His constricted smile showed that he was not nearly as delighted to see Dumbledore as the others.  
  
"Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said with an acknowledging nod of his head.  
  
Dippet, like Hawkins, could feel the tension, and suggested they all go get some breakfast. He, Riddle, and Grindelwald went up to the Great Hall, but Dumbledore and Minerva stayed behind, watching them with identical looks of apprehension on their faces.  
  
When he was sure they were out of earshot, Dumbledore turned to Minerva and said, "What do you have against Riddle? You just said he was the second best Auror in the Ministry."  
  
"I said that," she replied, "and I meant it, too. After Moody, he is the best." She frowned and folded her arms across her chest. "I just don't trust him." She then looked at him and said, "What do you have against him?"  
  
"I don't trust him, either."  
  
"Dippet and Grindelwald seem to."  
  
Dumbledore sighed and said, "Armando, Quinn, and I do not always see eye-to-eye on things. Riddle and Quinn are both Slytherins, and you know they stick together. And Armando... he's a good man, and a good friend, but he's too trusting, I think. He goes out of his way to find the good side of a person, and someday, I think that will be his undoing."  
  
"Why don't you trust Riddle?"  
  
"Are you familiar with an incident that took place during Riddle's fifth year? I think you had just graduated."  
  
She nodded. "Yes and yes. That Hufflepuff girl, Myrtle Raley, was killed, and it was determined that an Acromantula belonging to Rubeus Hagrid was responsible for the attack. Hagrid was expelled."  
  
"Yes. Riddle turned in Hagrid, the attacks stopped, and he became a hero. He was more loved by the students and teachers than ever."  
  
"McCarthy had his eye on him ever since that day. He vowed to make him an Auror someday."  
  
"I think Riddle knew more about those attacks than he told us," Dumbledore said. "And, crazy as it may sound, I do not believe it was the fault of Hagrid's creature. Granted, the boy should not have been keepin an Acromantula as a pet, but just the same, my heart tells me it wasn't him."  
  
"Do you think it might have been Tom himself behind the attacks?"  
  
He shook his head and let out a long, heavy sigh. "I don't know, Professor. I really don't know. I just think Riddle wasn't telling us everything. He was so anxious to see the blame placed on Hagrid, and I cannot help but wonder..." He let his voice trail, and then said to Minerva, "Why don't you trust him?"  
  
Minerva sighed, lifted her eyes to the ceiling for a moment, dropped her gaze to the floor, and then looked Dumbledore in the eyes. "This is trivial compared to your reason, but..."  
  
"But what?"  
  
"Have you ever been stalked?"  
  
He was slightly taken aback. "Well... no, I can't say that I have."  
  
"Let's just say that Tom Riddle is the type of man who doesn't take no for an answer."  
  
"Oh. I'm sorry."  
  
"Don't be. It's not your problem."  
  
"Since when does a problem have to be my own for me to worry about when someone I care for is being bothered by it?"  
  
A smile worked its way onto Minerva's face. "I've missed talking to you, Professor Dumbledore."  
  
"Well, Professor McGonagall, we shall have to talk some time. Do you anticipate being very busy this evening?"  
  
She could feel herself blushing slightly, and hoped Dumbledore didn't notice. "I'll have some papers to correct, but that shouldn't take too long. Most of my curriculum is notes and in-class discussions."  
  
He nodded approvingly. "Good method for that course. How does the Transfiguration classroom at nine o'clock sound to you?"  
  
Their old meeting place. It sounded great. "Yes, that should be fine."  
  
"Excellent." He smiled at her, and his blue eyes sparkled brightly. "I'll see you then."  
  
~~~  
  
"Your homework for tonight is an essay about vampires," Minerva told the fifth-year Hufflepuffs and Ravenclaws as the bell rang, signalling the end of classes for the day. "It needs to be three to five pages long and needs to be on my desk by the beginning of class on Friday. Enjoy the rest of your day."  
  
The students began filing out of the room, and she picked up a stack of papers from the second-years' class. There wasn't a lot to be done, but she wanted to get everything out of the way early so it would all be done when she went to meet Dumbledore. That way, it wouldn't be hanging over her head as they attempted to pick up the pieces of their relationship.  
  
Minerva was looking forward to resurrecting her friendship with Dumbledore. They would spend hours talking and studying together when she was a student, and it was he who inspired her and helped her train to become an Animagus. Some thought their relationship was too intimate to be appropriate for a student and a teacher, but they were careful to keep things on a strictly platonic level. She'd had something of a crush on him since about halfway through her third year, but never took it seriously. After all, what were the chances of a powerful, respected wizard like Albus Dumbledore falling for a student? She'd be a Slytherin before that happened.  
  
Although they never openly admitted it to each other, both of them wanted to remain friends after her graduation from Hogwarts. She wrote to him a few times over the following summer, and he wrote back. However, since she didn't want to seem overly eager about jumping into a relationship, platonic or otherwise, her letters were short and impersonal. That turned out to be her undoing - his became just as short and impersonal, and letters were exchanged less frequently, about one every two weeks or so. By the end of that year, both had come to the conclusion that the other had no interest in them, and the letters stopped altogether. She meant to write to him eventually, but she became so busy with her job as an Auror that she never found the time.  
  
Now, though, that was going to change. She was determined to get her friend back, and who knew? Maybe her schoolgirl crush was more than a crush. Maybe it was real...  
  
The second-years' papers took her about half an hour to correct, and once that task was finished, she moved on to a stack of papers from the sixth-years. They had been assigned a brief report on a magical creature of their choosing. She was about halfway through a rather good paper about griffins when there was a knock on her door. "Come in," she called. She expected it was Natalie Cypher, the Potions instructor and head of Hufflepuff house. She said she might come by some time that day to compare notes.  
  
It wasn't Professor Cypher. It was Tom Riddle.  
  
"Tom, what are you doing here?" Minerva exclaimed when she saw him. "You should be with Professor Dippet!"  
  
"He said I could take a break," Riddle said. He came inside the room and walked toward her, closing the door behind him. "Anyway, he's with Grindelwald. I don't think he's in any danger there."  
  
"No, probably not," she agreed, "but just the same, it's your duty to protect him. You shouldn't leave him."  
  
"He said I could go."  
  
She was starting to get frustrated. "Armando has been against this from the start. If his own bodyguard won't be firm with him, what the hell are the rest of us supposed to do?"  
  
Riddle didn't answer. He sat down on a desk in the front row and gazed intently at her. "Why are you like this, Minerva?" he asked. "You haven't answered any of my letters, and this morning, you acted like you barely knew me. What's come over you?"  
  
"Please don't look at me like that."  
  
"Like what?"  
  
"Like that!"  
  
He smiled innocently at her.  
  
She wasn't biting. "What's this really about, Tom?"  
  
"I don't know, Minerva," he replied. "Why don't you tell me?"  
  
"What's that supposed to mean?"  
  
Riddle's smile vanished, and he narrowed his eyes. "I think you know what I mean. You're only twenty-two years old, Minerva, and you're a teacher at Hogwarts. You had a promising career as an Auror. You could have easily moved up the ranks in the Ministry, and maybe even become the Minister of Magic someday, but instead, you became a teacher. Why?"  
  
"If I recall, it was you who told me to take this job."  
  
"It was," he said, "but do you ever listen to me?"  
  
Minerva glared at him. "I don't have time for your games," she said, standing up and walking over to him. "This is serious. Armando Dippet could have been killed last night, and all you care about is working your adolescent charms on me. Perhaps I should let you know that one of the reasons I left the Ministry was to get away from you!"  
  
Riddle seized her by the wrists and pulled her close to him. "You'll have to do better than that if you want to get rid of me," he said, and leaned in to kiss her.  
  
Their lips were just starting to touch when there was a knock on the door. "You in here, Riddle?" came Grindelwald's voice.  
  
"Come in, Professor Grindelwald," Minerva said, and jerked her hands away from Riddle.  
  
Grindelwald opened the door and came inside, followed closely by Dippet. "Mind if I have a word with you?" he asked Riddle.  
  
"Not at all," Riddle replied, pasting on a fake smile. He glanced at Minerva out of the corner of his eye and narrowed it angrily, as if warning her to watch her back.  
  
"Good. Let's go out in the hall. I think Armando will be safe with Minerva for a few minutes."  
  
Riddle followed Grindelwald out into the hall. Dippet noticed the angry look on Minerva's face and walked over to her. "Are you all right?" he asked.  
  
A small, phony smile crossed her face. "I'm fine," she said. "I just really don't like Tom Riddle, that's all."  
  
"He was hitting on you, wasn't he?"  
  
She nodded. "Don't worry about it. It happens all the time; from him, anyway."  
  
"Just from him? Surely there must be other men who always hit on you."  
  
"You'd be surprised."  
  
"Would I?" he asked, and smiled.  
  
Minerva laughed, and it was genuine. "Armando Dippet, are you hitting on me?"  
  
"Actually, I was trying to prove you wrong, but yes, I guess you could say that I am hitting on you."  
  
They smiled at each other for a few moments, and then Minerva, anxious to initiate conversation again, asked, "How's your arm?"  
  
"It hurts," he admitted, "but it'll heal."  
  
"Do you have any idea who could have attacked you?"  
  
Dippet groaned. "Do we really have to have this conversation, Minerva? I'm tired of everyone worrying about my safety. Did you even see that man? I did more damage to him than he did to me." His voice was steadily increasing in volume. "No matter what any of you say, I do not need to be protected! I will not hide like a coward behind an Auror while this mystery is solved!"  
  
Gone was the joking, flirtatious mood they had been in seconds ago. Minerva turned her head away, unable to make eye contact with him, and mumbled, "I'm sorry."  
  
Dippet sighed. His outburst was out of line, and he knew it. "No, I'm sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to yell at you. I just... I just don't think think this is necessary."  
  
"Think what's necessary?" she asked, turning her head towards him again. "That we care about you?"  
  
"I didn't mean it like that, Minerva."  
  
"Then what did you mean it like, Armando?"  
  
A hot, angry tear slowly trickled down her cheek. He reached over with his hand and brushed it away. "It's all right," he assured her. "Everything will be fine."  
  
He leaned in toward her, and for a moment, she thought he was going to kiss her. Just before he did, though, he stopped his advance and held still, as if he wasn't quite certain he should progress.  
  
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Minerva asked, hoping she didn't sound as nervous as she felt.  
  
"No," he replied, but didn't pull away.  
  
"No as in this isn't a good idea, no as in you're not sure if this is a good idea or a bad idea, or no as in you didn't hear a word I said and are struggling with some inner conflict that I am completely oblivious to?"  
  
Dippet chuckled. "Run that by me again, Minerva, and then let me know if I can kiss you."  
  
So he did want to kiss her. For a moment, she didn't know what to think. After coming so close to kissing Riddle against her will just minutes ago, she wasn't so sure she wanted to kiss anyone. And yet, here she was, with her lips just inches away from Armando Dippet's, and just a word away from kissing a man she'd always admired and recently become good friends with, a man who treated her as an equal and not like some silly girl. Never before in her life had something become so clear so quickly.  
  
She tried to say yes, but no sound came out, so she opted for a nod instead. Even though she knew it was going to happen, nothing could prepare her for the feeling that ran through her body when Dippet's lips touched hers. A wave of warmth swept over her, and she thought she was going to melt into his arms. The world around them seemed to vanished as they kissed each other, and for a few precious seconds, nothing else mattered.  
  
They probably would have kissed all night had it not been for Grindelwald opening the door and saying, "All right, Armando, you can have your bodyguard back."  
  
"Duty calls," Dippet said as they pulled away from each other.  
  
Minerva, surprised she had the ability to do so, nodded and said, "Yes, I should get back to work, too."  
  
Neither one of them moved.  
  
Grindelwald laughed. "Don't make me come over there."  
  
"I'm coming," Dippet told him. He smiled at Minerva, and she smiled back at him. They gazed at each other for a few more moments, and then he turned away and walked over to the doorway. She watched him go, and then her eyes moved to Riddle. Riddle looked ready to murder someone, and if looks could kill, she would be dead.  
  
Had Minerva not been so preoccupied with the Death Stare that Riddle was giving her, she might have noticed that Grindelwald was looking at Dippet the same way. 


	6. Confessions

A/N: If this chapter makes you hate the backstabbing bastard that is Grindelwald, then I have done my job. Quick notes to reviewers before I begin:  
  
Stoneygem - Thanks for reading. I'm a pretty exclusive shipper, too, contrary to what this story is implying... It's just to make things complicated.  
Robin - That's exactly what I was going for with Dumbledore. Thanks for noticing, and this will definitely be AD/MM (AD being Albus Dumbledore, not Armando Dippet!) I'm getting there.  
Child-of-the-Dawn - *cowers* Yes, she's kissing the wrong guy, but she doesn't know it yet. :-) And you thought the dogfight was going to be Tom and Dumbledore... hee hee hee...  
Inca - I was wondering how you'd react to the kiss. *smiles innocently* Yes, I am very evil, and don't you forget it. Dippet's here to make things harder for Dumbledore.  
MK - Grindelwald doesn't yell at Dippet. It's worse - he's nice to him! But like I said above, this is the chapter where we find out that Grindelwald is a backstabbing bastard. :-)  
Aeryn Alexander - Thanks for your huge reviews. Makes my day. Alastor Moody may yet show up, but I haven't decided yet. Grindelwald is supposed to be a complex character, and no, he didn't attack Armando... directly... yet. (As for his first name... all it really comes down to is I like the name Quinn and it sounded okay with Grindelwald ^_^) And I started reading 'June Week' this morning, and it's VERY good.  
Redwoman06 - It will be Dumbledore... eventually.  
Queen Claire, Sofie, You-know-who, and Insaneflautist - Thanks, and I will.  
Darkfire - Was the kiss evil enough for you? :-)  
Laura - Yep, Dumbledore the perfect gentleman. ^_^ But alas, that may end up being his undoing...  
Xela - Yes, Grindelwald is on staff. I thought that would be an interesting twist. And it will eventually be AD/MM, but after all, getting there is half the fun.  
  
~~~  
  
CHAPTER SIX: CONFESSIONS  
  
Quinn Grindelwald replaced his angry scowl with the friendly grin he always wore as Armando Dippet turned to him as they, along with Dippet's Auror bodyguard, Tom Riddle, left the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom. Dippet was all smiles, and Grindelwald wasn't surprised - he'd probably have the same look on his face if he'd just kissed Minerva McGonagall. "Well, someone certainly looks happy," he commented, nudging Dippet with his elbow.  
  
"Someone is happy," Dippet returned.  
  
"So, how long have you and Minerva been together?"  
  
"We're not," Dippet said. "That just... happened. I don't know how or why; it just did."  
  
"Mm-hmm." Grindelwald nodded. He thought about pointing out that Albus Dumbledore was going to be heartbroken, but he decided to wait. It was better to make sure he was holding all the cards before playing any. "So what are you going to do? Thinking about going after her?"  
  
"That's not the way I would have put it, but yes, I think I will attempt to pursue a relationship with her. I'll talk to her and see if she's willing to try." There was still something Dippet wasn't quite sure about: Dumbledore. Although he insisted he felt nothing but friendship for Minerva, Dippet could tell Dumbledore was more than somewhat attracted to her, and he couldn't help noticing how Minerva's eyes always lit up when she saw him. But on the other hand, if she returned Dumbledore's attraction, she wouldn't have kissed him.  
  
Would she?  
  
"Good luck," Riddle said.  
  
Grindelwald and Dippet both looked at him with mildly surprised expressions on their faces.  
  
Riddle shrugged. "You'll need it with her."  
  
~~~  
  
The rest of the evening passed quickly for Minerva, and before she knew it, it was ten minutes to nine. Almost time to go talk to Dumbledore - might as well head in that direction now. She put the finishing touches on her lesson plan for the next few days, set her writing quill down, and headed for the door. There was so much they needed to talk about; after all, four years of being apart couldn't be made up for with a simple, "Hello, how are you, I am fine."  
  
There were a lot of things they could discuss, but Minerva wasn't quite sure about one potential topic: the kiss. She'd never even thought about kissing Armando Dippet until it happened, and what surprised her the most was that it didn't surprise her at all. She had been a little nervous at first, but that was because she wasn't sure if he was going to kiss her or not. She wondered how Dumbledore would react to this. If they were going to be friends, then they should be able to tell each other when something like this happened, and besides, Dippet probably told him already, anyway. It would make their relationship open and honest. On the other hand, would his opinion of her change if he found out that she kissed Dippet? She almost wasn't sure if the positive outweighed the negative.  
  
Finally, Minerva decided to just talk to Dumbledore for a while and see if she felt comfortable with telling him something so personal. By then she should know if it was a good idea or not. She would just have to wait and see.  
  
On her way to the Transfiguration room, Minerva passed Grindelwald, who was walking in the opposite direction. He smiled at her, and she smiled back at him. They had just walked past each other when Grindelwald halted, turned around, and said, "So, have you and Armando made things official yet?"  
  
Minerva stopped walking as well and turned toward him. "I don't know," she said. "He said he'd like to give it a try, and he asked that I think about it before giving him an answer."  
  
"Have you thought about it?"  
  
"I have."  
  
"And..."  
  
She laughed. "Why so interested, Professor Grindelwald?"  
  
"You can call me Quinn, and as you probably know, Armando and I confide in each other. We've known each other for a long time, and I know he trusts me."  
  
"Yes, I know, and that's exactly why I don't want to tell you," Minerva said. "You'll probably let something slip to him about my intentions."  
  
Grindelwald smiled innocently. "I would never."  
  
"Oh, you can probably read me like a book, anyway. All right, you can hint to Armando that I would love to start a relationship with him if you let me do the actual telling tomorrow morning."  
  
"Sounds fair," he said with a nod. So Minerva returned Dippet's feelings for her... this complicated things. Might as well, he thought. "Professor Dumbledore is going to be heartbroken."  
  
Minerva's lighthearted mood vanished. "What do you mean?" she asked.  
  
"He's in love with you, you know," Grindelwald said. "He won't admit it to anyone, not even himself, but he is. I can see it in his eyes. Not that I want to make you have second thoughts about Armando or anything, but I thought someone should let you know. It sure as hell won't be Dumbledore."  
  
"Dumbledore, in love with me?" Minerva said. She let out a nervous laugh. "That's a stretch."  
  
"You know, Minerva, you sell yourself short," said Grindelwald. "Promise not to take it the wrong way if I tell you the truth?"  
  
She nodded. "All right."  
  
"You're beautiful." She started to protest, but Grindelwald cut her off. "Hear me out. You are the most attractive woman I've ever seen, and on top of that, you're intelligent beyond comparison. When beauty and brains combine in a way like they have with you, the product they yield is sure to attract some attention, desired or otherwise."  
  
Immediately, she thought of Tom Riddle.  
  
Grindelwald continued. "I don't think you realize how intimidating a woman like yourself is to a man, and that's why you might not believe it. However, there are those out there who have waited their whole lives for a woman like you, and Albus Dumbledore is one of them."  
  
Minerva was blown away by Grindelwald's words, and she wasn't quite sure what to think, especially concerning Dumbledore's alleged feelings for her. She took a deep breath to steady her racing heart, and said, "And Armando Dippet?"  
  
"Oh, I'm sure he's been waiting for you his whole life, too," Grindelwald said nonchalantly. "I think you and Armando could be very happy together, Minerva, especially if you don't let anyone else come between you. Just do Albus a favor and break it to him gently."  
  
~~~  
  
Break it to him gently... those words were still echoing in her mind as she continued through the school toward the Transfiguration classroom. Could what Grindelwald said possibly be true? Was Dumbledore really in love with her? Peeves had hinted at it when she first arrived, but that was Peeves. This was Grindelwald - powerful, influential, respected, trusted Quinn Grindelwald, deputy headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Would he lie to her about something like that?  
  
Minerva pushed those thoughts to the the back of her mind and knocked on the door. "Password!" came Dumbledore's voice.  
  
She smiled to herself. She'd almost forgotten about their old password game. "It's me, Professor," she said.  
  
She heard a soft chuckle from inside. "Come in, Miss McGonagall."  
  
She opened the door and went inside. Dumbledore was sitting at a table in the third row and concentrating on making a marble hover a few inches above his palm. "And how was your day?" he asked as she walked toward him.  
  
"It was good," she answered.  
  
"Any students giving you problems?" He grew tired of the marble trick and let it fall into his palm.  
  
Minerva shook her head. "For the most part, no. That third-year Gryffindor, Lyle Weasley, can be somewhat of a trial from time to time, but he really is a wonderful boy."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. "Ah, yes, him. It's always an adventure to teach a Weasley."  
  
She nodded. She'd always liked the Weasley family. The oldest of Lyle's three older siblings, a girl named Megan, was in her year, and the two were good friends. "Or learn with one," she added. As soon as those words left her lips, she wished she hadn't said them. That was going back to the student-teacher thing, and that was the last place she wanted their friendship to go.  
  
"Or learn with one," he said. His voice had dropped slightly in volume, and Minerva sensed that he'd had the same thought she did.  
  
She changed the subject, moving to the topic of the house Quidditch teams. She was an avid Quidditch fan, and he was fond of the sport as well, so that was a good place to begin a decent conversation. Ravenclaw had the best Seeker, but Gryffindor's Chaser trio was the best by far, and Slytherin had excellent players all around. Hufflepuff was in a recovery year; they lost a Seeker and a Chaser to graduation and a Keeper to an accidental death over the summer holidays, but they should still be able to surprise people.  
  
After Quidditch, they moved on to politics. They spent the next half hour discussing Tobias Hawkins's approach to the war going on in the Muggle world and whether or not the wizards should get involved. Before she left the Ministry, a rumor had been going around that Hawkins was going to meet with the Muggle prime minister, Winston Churchill, and discuss strategy. That hadn't been confirmed, but when she mentioned it, Dumbledore said that sounded like something Hawkins would do.  
  
As that conversation drew to a close, Minerva contemplated telling Dumbledore about the kiss. They were getting along well, and after her conversation with Grindelwald, she wanted to tell him more than ever; not just to let him know about her and Dippet, but to confirm her doubts about his feelings for her. As much as she trusted Grindelwald, she wasn't quite sure she agreed with him on the topic of Dumbledore being attracted to her. She opened her mouth to speak, but stopped the words just before they came out.  
  
"Something on your mind?" Dumbledore asked upon noticing her hesitation.  
  
Well, now there was definitely no way out. "I kissed Professor Dippet."  
  
He could barely believe what he just heard. "You kissed him?"  
  
"Well, technically, he kissed me, but I kissed him back."  
  
He didn't know what to think. Minerva and Dippet - who would have guessed? Certainly not him. He wanted to be happy for her, but couldn't find it in him at the moment. "So... what's happening?"  
  
"Prof- Armando asked me if I wanted to try a relationship with him, and I think I should. I'm asking you this because I value your honest opinion - should I get involved with him?"  
  
Dumbledore didn't know how to answer. He was surprised that Minerva and Dippet wanted to try a relationship, but what surprised him even more was how much it bothered him. "I think that's your decision, Minerva."  
  
"Yes, it is, but your opinion means a lot to me."  
  
His opinion? His opinion was that she she should go up to Dippet and say, "Sorry, but I'm in love with someone else." Damn it! he thought, and tried not to wince. He'd told himself he wasn't going to think thoughts like that. How was he ever supposed to get the others to believe he wasn't in love with her if he couldn't even convince himself? He could see only way out of this. If Minerva got involved with Dippet, that would certainly discourage any attraction on his part. Maybe things would be better once she was officially off-limits.  
  
Dumbledore took a deep breath, forced a smile, and gave her his response. "Yes, I think you should."  
  
Minerva smiled warmly at him. She thought she was going to explode with happiness, and not just because she had made her decision about Dippet. This proved Grindelwald was wrong about Dumbledore's feelings for her. If he was in love with her, then it wouldn't make any sense for him to encourage a relationship with Dippet. "Thank you."  
  
"You're welcome." Dippet! He still couldn't believe it. What was so special about Dippet? All right, so he was the headmaster of Hogwarts, the world's foremost expert in Potions (his field before becoming headmaster), a Ravenclaw (okay, so maybe that wasn't so special, but this was just a list of things that came to mind), an Animagus (falcon), a good friend, a Humphrey Bogart look-alike... maybe he should just stop now. Dippet was obviously more than qualified. And besides, there was no point in sizing up the competition. Minerva had made her decision.  
  
Congrats, Dumbledore, he told himself. You lost. 


	7. Stirring Up Trouble

CHAPTER SEVEN: STIRRING UP TROUBLE  
~~~  
  
  
For the next few days, Dumbledore couldn't even look at Dippet without getting a knot in his stomach. Dippet came to him the morning after his conversation with Minerva and told him what happened between them. Dumbledore said that he'd already heard it from her and that he was happy for them. That wasn't entirely a lie; he was happy for them, but it was more because he cared about Minerva's happiness than approval of their relationship. As long as she was content, that was all that mattered.  
  
Dumbledore's biggest problem, however, wasn't the unexpected Dippet and Minerva thing - it was Grindelwald. He thought Grindelwald would back off from his obsession with his personal life once Minerva and Dippet became officially involved, but that wasn't the case. On the contrary, Grindelwald became more interested than ever...  
  
~~~  
  
It was three days after the kiss that started it all. Dumbledore was in his classroom, memorizing more of the dictionary. He'd finished correcting papers and making up his lesson plans for the next few days, and since he was feeling somewhat antisocial as of late, memorizing the dictionary would be a good way to kill some time. He was finished with F and was just starting on G. He was committing "gabbro: a usually coarse-grained igneous rock made up of calcic plagioclase and pyroxene" to memory when there was a knock on his door. He really wasn't in the mood to see anyone, so he ignored the knocking. He became even less enthusiastic about having a visitor when he heard, "I know you're in there, Albus," and recognized the voice of Quinn Grindelwald.  
  
Dumbledore sighed and set his dictionary down on his desk. "Nothing personal, Quinn, but I really don't want to see anyone right now."  
  
"Come on, Albus," Grindelwald said. "You can't hide from the world like this."  
  
Dumbledore pointed his wand at the door, and it opened. "Listen, Quinn," he said. "I'm tired of this. Drop the subject. I don't want to talk about it anymore. I never wanted to in the first place!"  
  
Grindelwald came inside and closed the door behind them. "What do you mean?" he asked with an innocent smile as he approached his desk.  
  
"You know what I mean."  
  
"Do I?"  
  
"Quinn..."  
  
Grindelwald chuckled. "All right, all right. But really, Albus, this sort of behavior isn't healthy. We've barely seen anything of you for the past three days. The rest of the faculty is starting to get worried."  
  
"I haven't been feeling well."  
  
Grindelwald sat down on a table in the front row. "You're in love with Minerva, aren't you?"  
  
Not this again, he thought. "This has gone far enough. I'm not in love with Minerva. And even if I were, she's with Armando. I lost my chance, and if he is indeed the one for her, that chance will never come again."  
  
Grindelwald sighed and drummed his fingers against his knee. Outwardly, he was nothing more than a friend with good intentions, but what Dumbledore didn't see was that beneath his concerned exterior, he was plotting a twisted, nefarious grand master plan. Dumbledore was nothing more than a pawn, and it was time for him to put this pawn into position. "Albus, I have a confession to make," he said. What he was about to say was a complete lie, but how would he ever find out? "I spoke with Minerva a few minutes ago, and she told me something I am repeating to you only because I think it's in your best interest. She cares about Armando, but... but she's in love with you."  
  
Dumbledore nearly jumped at those words. "What?"  
  
Grindelwald nodded. "It's true." He sighed again and shook his head. "I can only imagine how horrible it must be for her, to be with one when she loves another-"  
  
"Stop it," Dumbledore interrupted. "You're trying to trick me into giving something away. It won't work."  
  
"I'm not trying to trick you, and even if I were, there would be no reason for me to waste my breathe, for you've already given everything away. You're in love with Minerva. She's in love with you. The only thing standing in your way is Armando Dippet."  
  
He didn't believe it. There was an unspoken code of honor that existed among the faculty, and neither he nor Dippet would consciously break it for any reason. Dippet would never have touched Minerva if he thought Dumbledore was in love with her, and since Dumbledore straight-up told him the day she arrived that he felt only platonic feelings for her, there was no reason why Dippet shouldn't go after her, and for that reason, Dumbledore was not going to pursue Minerva now that she was with Dippet. I'm not in love with her, he told himself. I'm not!  
  
"I'm sorry that you had to find out this way," Grindelwald said. "There's more. The only reason she's with Armando is because she didn't think you could ever love her." He inhaled deeply, and then slowly let the air out of his lungs. "You should have made a move, Albus, and because you didn't, you've lost her."  
  
"Do you think I don't know that?" Dumbledore asked. "Do you think I haven't suffered through every second that's gone by since she kissed Armando? If love means being happy for someone and respecting their decision, then yes, I do love her with all my heart. But if love means resenting Minerva because she picked another and Armando because he was the wiser man, then I have never loved, and I swear I never will."  
  
"Aha, so you do love her."  
  
Dumbledore let out a heavy sigh and pressed his hand to his forehead. "That word has so many meanings, Quinn."  
  
"Oh, you've reached L already? Last time I checked, you were just starting G."  
  
He smiled in spite of himself. "No, but it's common knowledge. If love were simple and easy to understand, there would be no point to life."  
  
"Why, Albus Dumbledore, that's probably the most romantic, philosophical thing I've ever heard you say. And I thought Transfiguration instructors were supposed to be cold and heartless."  
  
"I don't know whether to thank you or make a joke about Charms instructors."  
  
"Do yourself a favor and don't do either."  
  
Grindelwald then said he needed to work on his lesson plans and excused himself. Dumbledore didn't know what to think as his friend left the room. Something about what he said didn't make sense. He didn't believe for one second that Minerva was with Dippet because she thought he couldn't love her. That just wasn't something she would do. And why did Grindelwald say that the only thing standing in Dumbledore's way was Dippet? Dippet hadn't gotten in the way - Dumbledore stepped out of it. Was Grindelwald trying to turn him against Dippet? No - that made even less sense than anything else. Quinn Grindelwald was a Hogwarts teacher, and the deputy headmaster at that. He was a good man who had earned the trust of everyone he knew. There was just no way his intentions were less than honorable.  
  
Was there?  
  
~~~  
  
Grindelwald had been lying; he wasn't going to work on his lesson plans. He had another stop to make and another life to begin whittling away at - Minerva McGonagall's. However, Minerva wasn't in her classroom. He wondered if she was off somewhere with Dippet. That was highly unlikely, though; Dippet had been in his office all day writing letters to important figures within the wizarding world, and on top of that, he wasn't supposed to go anywhere without his bodyguard, whom she detested. Still, though, it wouldn't hurt to check.  
  
The password "Aconcagua" let Grindelwald past the gargoyle, and he began climbing up the staircase. When he reached the top of the stairs, he found Tom Riddle standing in front of the door into the headmaster's office. "Sorry, Professor Grindelwald," the young Auror said with a shake of his head. "I'm not supposed to let anyone in, not even you."  
  
"Is he with Minerva or something?"  
  
A scowl flickered on Riddle's face for a moment. "No. She hasn't even been up here today."  
  
"Oh. Do you know where she is?"  
  
"It's Minerva. Where do you think?"  
  
Of course. Why didn't he think of that earlier? "The library."  
  
Riddle nodded.  
  
"Thank you." Grindelwald turned around to leave, then stopped, and faced Riddle again. "One more thing, Tom. While it's on my mind, just what are your feelings toward Minerva, anyway?"  
  
"I admire her," he said. "She's a powerful witch and a good Auror - well, was, anyway, before she decided to become a teacher."  
  
"No, really, how do you feel about her?"  
  
"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."  
  
"I think you do." Grindelwald narrowed his hazel eyes. "I've always liked you, Tom. You were the embodiment of everything Slytherin House stood for. Hogwarts hasn't had a Slytherin like you since Salazar Slytherin himself. One of the tenets of our house is to never give up on something you want until you get it. I know what you want. You want Minerva McGonagall."  
  
Riddle stiffened, but did not respond.  
  
Grindelwald continued. "As a fellow Slytherin, I must advise against this. Dippet's got her, and he's not going to let her go. It's already making his friendship with Dumbledore crumble."  
  
"Dumbledore?" Riddle repeated.  
  
He nodded. "Yes, Dumbledore. He's madly in love with her, and Dippet knows it. I expect a confrontation any day now." He leaned in closer to Riddle, and whispered, "This is your warning, Tom, and I'm giving it to you because I like you. Stay out of the way, and you won't get hurt."  
  
Riddle watch Grindelwald go, and once the deputy headmaster was out of sight, he relaxed his clenched fists. He hated being told he couldn't do something. He wasn't going to follow Grindelwald's advice. He wouldn't quit until Minerva was his, even if it meant taking out everyone who stood in the way...  
  
~~~  
  
Grindelwald made his next stop the library, and Minerva was indeed there, skimming through a book about werewolves. She looked up from her reading when she saw him approach and smiled. "What brings you here, Quinn?"  
  
"The truth," he answered. "I just spoke to Armando."  
  
"I thought he's been writing letters all day."  
  
"Well, he has, but I told him that what I had to say couldn't wait."  
  
Minerva closed her book and peered at him. "What do you mean?"  
  
"It's Dumbledore," Grindelwald returned.  
  
"What about him?"  
  
"I know you don't believe it, but the rest of the staff more than believes it, they know," Grindelwald said. "He's in love with you, Minerva, and he has been for some time. I'm telling you this because Armando is worried you might return Dumbledore's affections to some extent."  
  
Minerva blinked and shook her head. "Dumbledore is not in love with me, I assure you. Armando need not worry."  
  
"But what about you?" he asked. "Are you in love with Dumbledore?"  
  
"Quinn Grindelwald, I'm only twenty-two years old!" she said, exasperated. "How can I be in love with anyone when I don't have enough life experiences to even know what love is?"  
  
"My apologies; that wasn't the best way to put it."  
  
Minerva sighed and drummed her fingers against her book. "You know, Quinn, you seem really interested in these relationships. Why is that?"  
  
"I'm just concerned," Grindelwald answered. "Armando and Albus are my two closest friends, and if both of them are in love with the same woman, then that's bound to create some tension. Please believe me when I say that I have everyone's best interests in mind."  
  
She admired Grindelwald, but she had to admit that his motives were questionable. She doubted that what he was saying about Dumbledore being in love with her was true, mainly because Dumbledore never gave her a reason to believe otherwise. And if Dippet was so concerned about just who was holding her heart, anyway, then why didn't he come to her instead of Grindelwald? On top of that, Grindelwald was a Slytherin. She wasn't prejudiced against Slytherins, even after all her experiences with Tom Riddle, but it just wasn't their nature to be so, well... caring. Minerva knew she was seeing just the surface of this situation, and it frustrated her. But how could she find out what this was really about without making Grindelwald think she suspected him of something?  
  
"I would believe you," she told him, "if I thought there was any logic behind this notion of yours that Dumbledore is in love with me."  
  
Grindelwald had to consciously hold himself back from smiling at that one. She was falling faster for his bold-faced lies than the truth. "You don't see it because you don't believe it," he replied.  
  
"No, I don't believe it because I don't see it," Minerva said. "Armando let me know how he felt about me. Dumbledore never made a move."  
  
"Minerva, the man spends his spare time memorizing the dictionary. How well-developped do you think his skills are when it comes to this sort of thing?"  
  
"Quinn... please... just don't," she said. "I can't take hearing this anymore. If you're trying to make me have second thoughts about Armando, it won't work."  
  
"Very well, Minerva, but I don't think it will be too much longer before you find out that I'm right."  
  
And if everything went according to plan, they should start seeing the effects of it soon. All he had left was to talk to Dippet, convince him that the only reason Minerva was with him was because Dumbledore never made a move on her, and turn the two men against each other... it was perfect. Once they were out of the way, nothing could stop him. Minerva was the perfect conflict, and once Dippet and Dumbledore destroyed themselves over her, who would she go to? Him, of course. With all the suspicion and tension going on, Minerva was as good as his.  
  
Soon, Grindelwald told himself. Soon.  
~~~  
  
A/N: For my readers who were wondering about 'What Could Possibly Go Wrong?'... the next installment should be up either tomorrow or the day after. I've been suffering from writer's block with that one, but since being bombarded with requests for updates, I decided I might as well try. Also, a sequel to 'Sealed With A Kiss' is in the works, but I want to make some progress on 'Trust No One' and 'Those Ravenclaw Girls' before posting it, and also finish 'What'. The ideas-to-motivation ratio isn't so hot at the moment... 


	8. This Time Around

A/N: As you may have noticed, the rating has been moved up to PG-13. That's because this chapter is pretty violent towards the end, and it closes with some disturbing images. It's been in limbo between PG and PG-13 for a while now, and this more or less pushed it over the edge. But anyway, that's my spiel. Thanks to everyone who has read! If you're looking for some comic relief after reading this chapter, check out the story I put up yesterday, 'A Day In The Life' - of Peeves, that is! Bwa ha ha! Okay, okay, I'm done... read.  
  
Why aren't you reading yet?  
  
~~~  
  
CHAPTER EIGHT: THIS TIME AROUND  
  
~~~  
  
For the next several days, Albus Dumbledore, Armando Dippet, and Minerva McGonagall couldn't even look at each other without having second thoughts. Tensions were especially high between Dippet and Dumbledore, tensions that were present because both of them were in love with the same woman, even though only one of them was willing to admit it. Minerva openly confessed her feelings for Dippet, but he would often catch her glancing in Dumbledore's direction. The thoughts Grindelwald planted in her head were constantly coming back to her, and she couldn't help but wonder. It was torture for all three of them.  
  
One person, however, was not bothered at all by this love triange; in fact, Quinn Grindelwald felt better than ever. Things were working out just the way he'd planned. Dippet and Dumbledore were already starting to distrust each other, and although Grindelwald knew Dippet believed Minerva when she said that her heart belonged to him, he also knew that at this rate, it wouldn't last for long. A few more sideways glances, a few more passes in the hallways, a few more days of wondering if Dumbledore really was in love with her, and Dippet would trust Minerva about as far as he could throw her.  
  
Then, it happened. It was four nights after Grindelwald manipulated Dumbledore and Minerva into consciously considering what they secrectly knew to be true, that the other was in love with them. There were five of them in the staff room, not counting Tom Riddle; Grindelwald, Dumbledore, Dippet, Minerva, and Natalie Cypher, the Potions instructor and head of Hufflepuff house. What started off as an innocent conversation turned into a catalyst that threatened to send Grindelwald's plans out of control, forcing him to take desperate measures much sooner than he originally intended...  
  
The five of them had formed something of a semicircle around the fireplace in the staff room. Riddle was standing against the far wall, so silent and still that they all but forgot he was there. He was staring at the ceiling and looked bored out of his mind. At the right-hand end of the semicircle was Grindelwald, sitting cross-legged and gazing at the fire. A few feet to his left, sitting on the floor with his back against a chair, was Dumbledore, reading some obscure book on Transfiguration. To Dumbledore's left was Natalie, who was lying on her stomach on the floor, writing on a sheet of paper. Last was Minerva and then Dippet, who were also sitting on the floor. He had his arm around her waist, and she was resting her head on his shoulder. The only sounds were the crackling of the burning wood in the fire, the scratch of Natalie's quill against her parchment, and every few minutes, the turning of a book page.  
  
Suddenly, Natalie set her quill down and said, "Have any of you ever been to Venezuela?"  
  
"Venezuela?" Grindelwald asked, turning his eyes away from the fire in favor of the Potions instructor.  
  
"Yes, Venezuela," she said. "It's a country in South America, just north of Brazil and east of Colum-"  
  
"I know what Venezuela is," Grindelwald interrupted. "My comment was in the nature of surprise, not inquiry, and no, I've never been there."  
  
Natalie smiled knowingly. "Of course. My apologies, Quinn. But anyway, have any of the rest of you ever been to Venezuela?"  
  
"Can't say that I have," Dumbledore said, and turned a page in his book.  
  
"Same here," said Dippet.  
  
"Out of curiosity, why do you ask?" asked Minerva after replying in the negative to Natalie's question.  
  
Natalie sighed, picked up her quill, and began chewing on the end of it absentmindedly. "My brother's over there," she said. "I was just wondering what it was like."  
  
Natalie was a Muggle-born witch, and her brother, Benjamin, worked as a spy for the British government. All the Hogwarts faculty was aware of Benjamin Cypher's existance and his occupation, but he was rarely discussed because he had so little effect on their lives.  
  
"But don't worry about it," Natalie said, and went back to scrawling on her paper. Dumbledore turned a page again.  
  
"What are you writing?" Grindelwald asked.  
  
"I'm not writing," she said. "I'm drawing." She held up the paper. On it was a rather good sketch of the fireplace. "And I'm done." She set it down, and then wrote her initials and the date in the bottom right-hand corner.  
  
"Can I see it?" he asked.  
  
She held the paper out to him. Grindelwald pulled out his wand, pointed it at the paper, and said, "Accio drawing."  
  
"Watch it, Quinn!" Dumbledore said as the paper narrowly missed his head on its flight toward Grindelwald.  
  
Grindelwald smiled sheepishly and apologized. He looked over the sketch, and then saw N.V.C. and September 12, 1944 in the corner. "What does the V stand for?" he asked as he sent the picture back to Natalie with a levitation spell.  
  
"Vivianne," she answered. "It's my middle name."  
  
"Vivianne," Dippet repeated. "Interesting."  
  
"What's your middle name, Armando?" Natalie inquired.  
  
"Cassius," he said, and when he saw an amused smile cross Grindelwald's face, he said, "What's your middle name, Quinn?"  
  
"Quinn," Grindelwald answered.  
  
"Is that so?" said Minerva. "Then what's your first name?"  
  
Grindelwald made a face. "I'd rather not say."  
  
Dumbledore, who was beginning to find this conversation more fascinating than his reading material, smiled at Grindelwald and said, "Oh, come on, it's not that bad."  
  
"Fine, fine," said Grindelwald. "Jeremiah."  
  
"Jeremiah Grindelwald," Minerva said thoughtfully. "That's a nice name."  
  
"Thank you," he said. "I've always hated it, personally."  
  
"Why is that?" Natalie asked.  
  
Grindelwald rolled his eyes and said, "Do I look like a Jeremiah to you, Natalie Vivianne Cypher?"  
  
"You could always go by Jerry," Dippet suggested, and both Minerva and Natalie burst into laughter. A smile worked its way across Dumbledore's face as well.  
  
"You should talk, Armando Cassius Dippet," Grindelwald said, chuckling a little himself. "What the hell kind of middle name is Cassius, anyway?"  
  
"Mine's worse," Dumbledore said.  
  
"What's your middle name, Albus?" asked Minerva.  
  
She called me Albus, he realized. She'd addressed him by his first name several times before, but he still hadn't gotten used to it. He kind of liked the way his name sounded when she spoke it; but on the other hand, he liked the sound of her voice anyway. "Ozymandias."  
  
"What's an Ozzybumdidas or whatever?" Natalie asked, stumbling all over Dumbledore's middle name.  
  
"Ozymandias," Dumbledore corrected, "and it was the Greek name for the Egyptian pharoh Ramses II."  
  
"Albus Ozymandias Dumbledore," Dippet said, and nodded. "Nice."  
  
"A bit of a tongue-twister in the beginning, but it does have something of a ring to it," Minerva added. "I like it."  
  
"What about you, Minerva?" Dumbledore asked. "What's your middle name?"  
  
"Gabriella."  
  
"So if I ever wanted to get on your nerves," Grindelwald said, "could I call you Minnie Gabby?"  
  
She smiled. "Be my guest, Jerry."  
  
Grindelwald covered his heart with his hand and said, "Touché. All right, you can stay Minerva if I can stay Quinn."  
  
Minerva nodded in approval. "Sounds fair."  
  
Grindelwald decided to make Dippet his next target, and said, "And you, Armando... what say we call you Cassie?"  
  
"Call me Cassie and I'll change the password to get into the Slytherin common room to 'Jeremiah Grindelwald'," Dippet returned.  
  
Grindelwald leaned in close to Dumbledore and whispered, "Can he do that?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded.  
  
Grindelwald snapped his fingers. "Damn, it must be good to be headmaster."  
  
"It's good just to be Armando," Dumbledore muttered under his breath, and went back to reading.  
  
Dumbledore had hoped no one heard his comment, but in truth, everyone in the room had, even Riddle, who didn't look bored all of a sudden. Grindelwald was having trouble hiding his smile, and Dippet was having trouble hiding his look of unease. Minerva kept her expression neutral, but it was obvious that she was struggling as well. Natalie, who didn't like confrontations and wanted everyone to be happy (her being a Hufflepuff and all), decided to change the subject. "Who's up for a game of cards?" the Potions instructor asked in a slightly nervous voice.  
  
Dumbledore closed his book, stood up, and said, "No, thank you, Natalie, I was just leaving." Without another word, he left the room.  
  
Dippet sighed, and a slightly guilty look crossed his face. "I've got to talk to him," he said, and rose to his feet. Minerva stood as well.  
  
"Do you think you should give him time to cool off?" Grindelwald suggested.  
  
Natalie, who was oblivious to the love triangle, asked, "Why would he need time to cool off? Why would he even be mad in the first place?"  
  
"He's in love with Minerva," Grindelwald answered.  
  
"He is NOT in love with me!" Minerva almost shouted.  
  
Dippet sighed again and nodded. "Yes, Minerva, he is." He put his hands on her shoulders and looked her in the eyes. "I need the truth, and I need you to make a choice before another minute goes by. I don't care what your answer is; I just need it to be honest. All I want is for you to be happy, and if that means being with him and not me, then that's what it's going to be. Are you in love with Albus Dumbledore?"  
  
She wasn't quite sure how to answer. She'd put a lot of thought into that recently, and although she cared about Dippet, she couldn't see her by his side for the rest of her life. She loved him dearly, but she wasn't in love with him. She didn't want to hurt him by telling the truth, but she knew he wouldn't believe her if she lied. In a small, weak voice, she gave him her answer. "Yes."  
  
Grindelwald had to turn his head away so they wouldn't see him smile.  
  
Grindelwald wasn't the only one that was smiling. Dippet was, too, and unlike Grindelwald's devious smirk, his smile was genuine. He kissed her on the forehead and said, "Then go to him."  
  
She was taken aback. "But... you mean... really?"  
  
"Yes, really," Dippet said. "I always knew that he was in love with you, but he insisted that he wasn't, so I thought it would be all right to pursue you. I can't stop love like that, though, and there's no use in trying to. I'm only making both of you suffer."  
  
Minerva threw her arms around him and hugged him tightly. "Thank you," she whispered, and then left the room.  
  
Natalie smiled and pretended to wipe away a tear. "Humphrey Bogart himself couldn't have delivered that any better, Armando."  
  
Dippet grinned and blushed slightly. He was rather shy, and although he took being compared to Humphrey Bogart as a compliment, it embarrassed him a little at the same time.  
  
Grindelwald wasn't smiling anymore. It wasn't supposed to happen that way! He wasn't supposed to just let her go! It was supposed to take longer, be more complicated, break a few hearts along the way... not like this. This made things simpler for Dippet, Dumbledore, and Minerva, but for him, everything suddenly got a lot more complicated...  
  
He let out a heavy sigh as he realized what he had to do. He knew it would have to be done eventually, but he hadn't planned on it until later. Now, though, things had changed. It was time.  
  
~~~  
  
Dumbledore could hear the footsteps of someone hurrying toward him, and they were gaining. It had to be Dippet, who was the last person he wanted to see right now. He stopped, turned around, and said, "Armando, I-"  
  
He stopped when he saw that it wasn't Dippet. "Minerva?"  
  
She continued to walk over to him and nodded. "Me."  
  
Dumbledore turned his head away and said, "I don't think Armando would like the thought of us being alone."  
  
Minerva placed her hand on Dumbledore's cheek and turned his face toward her. "Armando was the one who told me to go to you."  
  
She'd heard all sorts of fairy tales about "true love's first kiss", but thought it was all just a bunch of crap until Albus Dumbledore's lips touched hers. As they stood there, alone in the empty hallways, kissing each other, life had meaning, nothing else mattered, and everything was perfect.  
  
~~~  
  
Armando Dippet felt no regrets as he got ready for bed that night. He cared about Minerva, but it wasn't what anyone would call love; more like a crush of some sorts. Dumbledore had come by to see him a little while earlier, and although Minerva's name was never mentioned, he knew what had happened, and he was happy for them. There were other women out there besides Minerva McGonagall if he ever felt like getting involved with someone again, and who were not already in love with someone else as well. That, he felt, was where he really went wrong. If he hadn't intervened, his two friends would have realized their feelings for each other much sooner.  
  
He decided to get some sleep. It had been a long day.  
  
~~~  
  
Outside Dippet's bedchambers, Tom Riddle lay dozing on a cot in front of the door. Riddle had always been a light sleeper, and he could hear someone coming in plenty of time to wake up and protect his charge. Anyway, one needed to be in the castle and also have a password to even get up there in the first place. He was sure Dippet would be safe even without him there.  
  
Suddenly, something caught Riddle's ear. It was the sound of footsteps. He couldn't see them yet, but he could hear... The shadows condensed, and he saw a single person cloaked in black appraoching him. He sat up, reached for his wand, and said, "Identify yourself."  
  
"Gladly," the stranger hissed. In the blink of an eye, his wand was out, too, and he shouted, "STUPEFY!"  
  
Riddle almost didn't know what hit him.  
  
~~~  
  
When Dippet heard the door to his bedchambers open, his first thought was that it was Riddle. "What is it, Riddle?" he asked, turning toward the entrance.  
  
It wasn't Riddle. He didn't know who it was. All he knew was that this person, whoever he was, was going to try to kill him.  
  
The stranger was holding a dagger in his right hand, but he didn't seem to want to use that weapon yet. Instead, he threw a punch with his left, and it made contact with Dippet's face just above his right eye. The headmaster stumbled backwards, but managed to quickly regain his balance and face his attacker. If it was a fight he wanted, it was a fight he was going to get.  
  
What Dippet didn't count on was this cloaked figure being almost as skilled in hand-to-hand combat as he was. He'd always been considered a master martial artist ("Not only does he look like Humphrey Bogart, but he does his own stunts, too!" Grindelwald had once said) but this man was just as good, if not better. His attacks were well-placed and came in succession, and when Dippet got a chance to throw a punch or a kick, it was easily blocked.  
  
The man seized Dippet's right wrist, and Dippet tried to come from beneath with an uppercut punch, but his attacker grabbed that as well. The attacker then twisted him around and used his joints against him, locking him in place. Dippet struggled to break free, but the man was remarkably strong. He couldn't do this alone - he needed help. "Riddle!"  
  
"Save your breath," the man told him. "He can't hear you."  
  
He twisted Dippet's arms almost to the point of dislocation, and then suddenly let go. Dippet tumbled to the floor, and before he could stand up again, the man hit his right knee with a palm strike. He let out a cry of pain as the joint snapped, and he knew that if he didn't do something quick, he'd lose more than his ability to use his knee.  
  
With his functioning left leg, Dippet threw a kick at his attacker that made contact with his chest. It was a noble effort, but it was too little, too late. His enemy quickly regained his balance and came at him again. He could not be stopped.  
  
Pain shot through his system as the attacker drove his dagger deep into his stomach, puncturing layer after layer of flesh and body tissue. "Who are you?" Dippet choked through the pain. He knew he was going to die. Did his attacker have the decency to show his face?  
  
"I was so disappointed when you didn't die before," the man said, yanking his dagger out of Dippet's skin. Red blood gushed out from the wound like water from a spring. "Luckily, things started to go my way for a while - until tonight."  
  
He moved the blood-stained dagger to Dippet's throat and pushed the blade in close enough to just nick the skin. "When you and Minerva got involved, I thought that would be enough to create a rift between you and Dumbledore, making all three of you weaker and more vulnerable. Then you let her go of your own free will, and you and Dumbledore no longer have any reason to resent each other. Know this, Armando. Love, friendship, trust... they're powerful things, but they're not going to save you this time."  
  
With his dying breath, Dippet repeated his question. "Who are you?"  
  
"Who am I?" the attacker said. "I'll show you."  
  
He pulled off his cloak, revealing his smirking face. Dippet's eyes grew wide with horror. "No..."  
  
Then, everything went black.  
  
~~~  
  
Minerva McGonagall was getting ready to climb into bed when a tapping sound on her window stopped her. She walked over to the window, and was surprised to see an owl sitting on the windowsill with a package in its beak. "What have you got there?" Minerva asked as she opened the window, letting the owl inside.  
  
The owl dropped the package into her hand, and then flew away. The only thing written on its brown paper exterior was her name. She wondered who had sent it, and why. Only one way to find out, she thought, and opened the package.  
  
When she saw its contents, she almost froze with fear. Her heart nearly skipped a beat, and she could taste bile in her throat. The package fell from her hands, and its contents spilled out onto the floor. For almost a minute, all she could do was stare. What sick person could have done this?  
  
The package contained two things: a folded piece of paper and a human heart.  
  
Minerva's shock finally wore off enough for her to move. She knelt down, and with a trembling hand, reached for the paper. On it were six words, written in blood:  
  
He wanted you to have this. 


	9. Aftermath

A/N: Thanks for reading, everyone. I hope you all enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. (Hey, I gotta have a few evil moments!) Yeah, Dippet died, poor guy. That made me sad, but in the immortal words of Lord Capulet (from 'Romeo and Juliet'), "We were born to die." Also, Aeryn, you are right: Ozymandias, the middle name I picked for Dumbledore, IS a poem. It was written by Percy Shelley in 1817. I had to analyze it in AP English, and it stuck in my head. Good poem, by the way. But anyway, here is Chapter Nine of 'Obsessions'. Bwa ha ha...  
  
~~~  
  
CHAPTER NINE: AFTERMATH  
  
~~~  
  
Albus Dumbledore awoke with a start. Something, although he didn't know exactly what, seemed wrong. He knew he wouldn't be able to sleep until he figured out what it was, so he decided to investigate. He got out of bed, slipped a day robe on over his nightclothes, and went out into the castle.  
  
The first person Dumbledore saw wasn't really a person at all - it was Peeves the poltergeist, painting a target on the chest of a suit of armor. Seeing Peeves at work annoyed Dumbledore, but he knew something as little as that wouldn't wake him from his sleep. There was something else... something more...  
  
Peeves saw Dumbledore and dropped his paintbrush. "Professor Dumbledore!" he exclaimed. "Erm... this isn't what it looks like, really."  
  
"I'll hear your excuses later, Peeves," Dumbledore replied. "Something's wrong, and I need to know what."  
  
Peeves shrugged. "Haven't seen a thing," he said, and zoomed away.  
  
Dumbledore watched the poltergeist fly off, sighed, and continued on his way. Like everyone else in the castle, he didn't care for Peeves much, but there was little that could be done about it. Peeves never caused any real harm, but all the mischief he created was more than enough for many, especially Apollyon Pringle, to wish for his eviction.  
  
Dumbledore rounded a corner, and he saw someone walking toward him from the other end of the hall - a very anxious-looking Minerva McGonagall. She gasped when she saw him and hurried over. "Albus, something's wrong," she said. "I... I think someone's been murdered."  
  
That was news indeed. "Why do you say that?" he asked.  
  
She told him about receiving the package with the human heart inside just minutes ago. "And there was a note, too," she said. "It said, 'He wanted you to have this'."  
  
A horrified look crossed Dumbledore's face. "Armando..." He grabbed her hand and began running toward the headmaster's chambers, pulling her along with him. "Hurry!"  
  
~~~  
  
Outside the door to Dippet's bedchambers, Dumbledore and Minerva saw a body lying on the ground. For a moment, they thought it was Dippet, but upon closer examination, they saw that it was Tom Riddle. Dumbledore knelt down to Riddle's body and pressed his fingers to the young Auror's neck to check for a pulse. "He's been stunned," he realized. He pulled his wand out, pointed it at Riddle, and said, "Ennervate."  
  
Riddle opened his eyes. They had a look of desperation in them. "Professor Dumbledore!" he almost shouted, and struggled to sit up. His body was stiff from being stunned, so he wasn't very successful. "Someone's trying to attack Professor Dippet! I tried to stop him, but-"  
  
"I understand, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore said, and stood up. He opened the door, and froze.  
  
The room was covered in blood. Broken and overturned furniture suggested a violent struggle that ended in death for the mutilated corpse lying in the middle of the room. The bloody, torn-up body had been completely gutted. Internal organs lay strewn all over the place; Dumbledore could recognize pieces of lung, intestine, stomach, and liver. There were two things he did not see, though; the head and the heart. The rib cage had been spread apart, and the muscles and blood vessels that held the heart in place were ripped. Someone had obviously torn it out of the body, and judging from the massive amounts of blood in the area, it had taken place when the person was still alive. The other thing missing from the corpse was the head. A bloody stump of a neck extended from the body, and the head appeared to have been removed where the spine connected to the skull. Even without the head and the body mutilated beyond recognition, Dumbledore instantly knew who the murdered person was: Armando Dippet.  
  
For almost a full minute, none of them could move, breathe, or even think. Finally, Dumbledore broke the silence. "Riddle," he said softly, but firmly, "go to the Ministry of Magic. Now."  
  
Riddle nodded, turned around, and ran in the direction of the Great Hall.  
  
Dumbledore turned to Minerva. She was struggling to maintain composure. "Get Quinn," he instructed. "I'll wake up the rest of the faculty, and we'll meet in the staff room in ten minutes."  
  
She nodded. She didn't trust her voice.  
  
Dumbledore reached for her hand and squeezed it tightly. "We'll find out who did this," he assured her. "I promise."  
  
Tears fought their way past her attempt to keep them at bay and slid down her cheeks. She didn't want to let him know just how scared she was, but it was no use. "Someone killed Armando," she said. "They tried to kill him before, but they were unsuccessful. Now they've done it. Who's next, Albus?"  
  
"I will die before I let any harm come to you."  
  
"Don't worry about me. I don't matter. I'm worried about you, about Quinn, and the students... what can we do?"  
  
He didn't have an answer. "I don't know," he said, "but we'll think of something. Come on, let's get the others."  
  
~~~  
  
On their way to wake up Quinn Grindelwald, they saw the Charms instructor running toward them from the direction of his bedchambers with a frantic look on his face. In his hands, he held a box of medium size. "Albus! Minerva!" he said. "There's been a murder! Armando..."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes, we know. Someone sent Minerva his heart."  
  
"Someone sent me his head," Grindelwald said, and held out the box. "Where's Riddle?"  
  
"Albus told him to go to the Ministry of Magic," Minerva answered. "He was stunned when we found him."  
  
Grindelwald sighed heavily. "Who could have done this? Do you think it was connected to the first attack?"  
  
"Probably," Dumbledore said. "Was that man ever identified?"  
  
"Yes; as Hector McGale, a freelance assassin," Grindelwald answered. "Someone hired him to kill Armando, and when that didn't work, someone must have tried again."  
  
"But why Armando?" asked Minerva. She was starting to break down again. "What made him a target?"  
  
"He was the headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," said Grindelwald. "Only the Minister of Magic is in a higher position of authority, and even that's arguable."  
  
Dumbledore took the box from Grindelwald and glanced inside. It was indeed Armando Dippet's head; or what was left of it, anyway. Both eyes had been removed, and grey brain tissue oozed out from where the cranium was split open. It was not a pretty sight. He closed the box and gave it back to Grindelwald, and then told Minerva she did not want to see it.  
  
~~~  
  
About fifteen minutes later, the Hogwarts faculty, along with the Head Boy and Head Girl (Bartemius Crouch and Tracy Keller, both from Gryffindor house), were assembled in the staff room to hear the news. "I'm sure you've all heard the news by new," Grindelwald said in a tired, heavy voice. "Our headmaster, Armando Dippet, has been murdered. We don't know who did it or why, but we will find out."  
  
"What's to be done?" Natalie Cypher meekly inquired.  
  
Grindelwald glanced at Dumbledore before giving his answer. "As deputy headmaster, it is my duty to take over as the school's head," he said. "Rachel?"  
  
Rachel Revueltas looked at him.  
  
"You are next in line after me," he reminded the Arithmancy instructor (and head of Ravenclaw house). "If you choose to accept it, the position of deputy headmistress is yours. Should anything happen to me, you will become the head of the school, and I believe Professor Dumbledore is next in succession."  
  
She nodded. "Yes, that's correct, and yes, I accept."  
  
"Thank you. We'll need a new Charms instructor." He looked at Jennifer Hensley, who taught three Potions classes and two Herbology classes. "I'm sure Professor Cypher and Professor Larios wouldn't mind taking on their full class loads if you moved on to Charms, Jennifer."  
  
Professor Hensley nodded in acknowledgement.  
  
The last thing position that needed to be replaced was the head of Slytherin house, and that went to Geoffrey Poe, the Astronomy instructor. "Tomorrow morning, I will go to the Ministry of Magic and provide them with further information surrounding the incident," Grindelwald said. "I promise you all that this murder will not go unpunished. We will find who killed Armando, and we will make them suffer as we have."  
  
~~~  
  
When Tobias Hawkins heard that Dippet had been murdered, he nearly went through the roof. He wanted to shut down the school until the killer was found, but Grindelwald persuaded him to keep it open. Extra security measures would be taken to protect the staff and students. Students weren't allowed to wander through the castle and grounds at night, but now, faculty members were forbidden to go anywhere alone after hours as well. Hawkins assigned each staff member a partner, and the teachers were required to know where their partner was at all times. Minerva, Dumbledore, and Grindelwald found themselves assigned to Natalie Cypher, Warrick Larios, and Geoffrey Poe, respectively.   
  
The Minister of Magic was most concerned about Grindelwald. Dippet had no enemies that they were aware of, so it was likely that whoever killed him attacked the position and not the person. Now that Grindelwald was headmaster, Hawkins was sure he would be next. "You need protection, Quinn," Hawkins told the new headmaster the day after Dippet's murder. "What if this person comes after you?"  
  
"I'm sure I'll be fine, Tobias," Grindelwald replied.  
  
"That's what Armando said, and he's dead."  
  
"Armando and I are completely different people."  
  
"True, but you are now in the same position. I won't take a chance, Quinn. There's too much going on, what with the Muggle war and all... How about some bodyguards? I'll keep Riddle with you, and I'll demand that McCarthy send Moody to-"  
  
"That won't be necessary," Grindelwald interrupted.  
  
"You're not being reasonable. Armando was sure nothing was going to happen to him, and yet he was killed."  
  
"You can't just take remove all your best Aurors from active duty to protect one man."  
  
"When that man is the headmaster of Hogwarts, I can."  
  
"Why waste the time and energy? We've got two of the Ministry's three best Aurors at Hogwarts right now."  
  
"Two?" Hawkins repeated. "I count one."  
  
"Tom Riddle," said Grindelwald.  
  
"He was the one."  
  
"Oh. Then the other is Minerva McGonagall."  
  
"McGonagall is a teacher now, not an Auror."  
  
"So? She's still a damned good Auror."  
  
Hawkins sighed. "Tell you what, Quinn. What say that you keep Riddle around Hogwarts as head of security, and I change your faculty partner from Poe to McGonagall?"  
  
Grindelwald held back a smile. The whole point of this conversation was to lead the Minister of Magic to that decision, and he had succeeded. Perhaps he could plant another thought in Hawkins's head while he was at it. "If you think that is our best option, then I have no objections," he said, "but I know someone who might."  
  
Hawkins stiffened. "Who?"  
  
"Albus Dumbledore."  
  
"Dumbledore?" Hawkins repeated. "Why would Dumbledore be against it?"  
  
"He's in love with Minerva, and that almost destroyed his friendship with Armando," Grindelwald answered. "Did Armando tell you that he and Minerva were romantically involved?"  
  
"Not that I remember." Hawkins blinked and scratched his head. "But she's so young. Both of them have to be at least four times her age."  
  
"Albus is ninety, and Armando was eighty-four," Grindelwald said, "but that's only about middle-aged for a wizard, you know, and besides, when you love someone, you don't care about things like that."  
  
"I never knew you were such a romantic, Quinn."  
  
"It comes and goes."  
  
"Out of curiosity, how old are you?"  
  
"How old are YOU, Tobias?"  
  
"Seventy-six."  
  
"I'm forty-two."  
  
Hawkins smiled slightly and began drumming his fingers against his thigh. "Okay, then. I'll reassign Poe to Cypher and McGonagall to you."  
  
"Thank you. I hope Albus doesn't mind."  
  
"You seem quite concerned that he will," Hawkins observed.  
  
"There's no telling with him," Grindelwald said with a sigh. "His... obsession with Minerva is almost unhealthy, I think. He was devastated when she chose another man." He rubbed his eyes with his fingers and said, "I hope no one thinks it was him that killed Armando."  
  
Hawkins almost couldn't believe he just heard that. He'd never even considered Dumbledore as a suspect in the murder, but in light of what Grindelwald said, it didn't seem completely beyond the realm of possibility. People had done crazy things in the name of love in the past, but Dumbledore didn't seem like the type that would be driven insane by this strongest of emotions. Maybe they should take him in for questioning, just to be sure... 


	10. Interrogation

CHAPTER TEN: INTERROGATION  
  
~~~  
  
A knock on the door to his classroom interrupted Albus Dumbledore when he was right in the middle of giving the third-year Gryffindors and Hufflepuffs a lecture two days after Armando Dippet's murder. Dumbledore had to hold his breath to keep from saying something inappropriate when the distraction caused him to transfigure the chair in front of him into a snowball instead of a snowglobe. He closed his eyes, silently counted to three, and then said, "Come in."  
  
The door opened. It was Tobias Hawkins, the Minister of Magic. With him was Noah McCarthy, the head of the Department of Magical Law Enforcement. "We'd like a word with you, Professor Dumbledore," Hawkins said.  
  
"With all due respect, Minister, I'm in the middle of a lecture," Dumbledore replied, and changed the melting snowball on his floor back into its original form, the chair. He then walked over to the two men standing in his doorway. "I don't have time to argue about this."  
  
"And we have a murder investigation," McCarthy quipped. "Are you going to come quietly?"  
  
"Easy, Noah," Hawkins said gently, but firmly as well. "Albus, you know I wouldn't ask you to do this if it wasn't important."  
  
Dumbledore motioned toward his class. "And the students? Who will run my class?"  
  
"Minerva McGonagall doesn't have a class right now," said Hawkins. "We could ask her."  
  
"Then get her, and don't attempt to remove me from my class without a replacement again."  
  
~~~  
  
Minerva was just as angry as Dumbledore, but unlike him, she showed it. "What do you mean, you have to ask him some questions?" she asked when Hawkins told her the reason they needed her to run his class for a few minutes. "What's so important that it can't wait until he doesn't have a class?"  
  
"It concerns," Hawkins said quietly, "the murder."  
  
Minerva stiffened. "What about the murder?"  
  
"We just have to ask him a few questions, that's all."  
  
She didn't like where this was going at all. "Like what?"  
  
"Just let us do our job, Minerva," said McCarthy. "You want to help find out who killed Dippet, don't you?"  
  
"Of course, but I don't see what interrogating Alb - Professor Dumbledore has to do with anything."  
  
McCarthy was quickly starting to get frustrated with the woman who had once been his second best Auror. "Minerva, we're wasting time arguing about this. Dumbledore asked us to ask you to teach his class while we ask him our questions. Would you please be so kind as to follow his wishes so we can get this over with?"  
  
"Ask me again, and this time, don't end your sentence with a preposition."  
  
He groaned. Minerva's obsession with grammar was highly annoying. "Will you cooperate, damn it?"  
  
A smug smile crossed her face. "That's better, and yes, I will cooperate."  
  
~~~  
  
Hawkins and McCarthy returned to Dumbledore's room a few minutes later, and they had Minerva. The Transfiguration instructor had no choice but to acquiesce to their wishes. "Do you know what this is about?" Dumbledore whispered to her as he walked over to the door.  
  
She shook her head. "No idea. What lecture are you doing?"  
  
"Snowglobe."  
  
"Ah." He always named his lectures after a demonstration he performed while giving it. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching, and then reached for his hand. "Be careful," she warned him in a soft voice. "They have ways of twisting words around so you say what they want you to say."  
  
He smiled at her. "I will," he promised, and gave her hand a gentle squeeze.  
  
Minerva felt a knot in her gut as she watched Dumbledore leave with Hawkins and McCarthy. Something didn't seem right, and she wanted to know what. Apparently, she wasn't the only one, because as soon as the three men were gone, one of the Hufflepuff girls asked, "What's going on, Professor McGonagall?"  
  
"I don't know, Miss Wilson," she answered, "but I'll tell you what. If you promise not to tell Professor Dumbledore, I'll find out."  
  
The students looked excited at the idea of being sneaky, especially when someone as so strict about rules as Minerva McGonagall was suggesting it. The class agreed. She waved her wand at the chalkboard, and it became covered in writing. "Copy down these notes, and I'll finish Professor Dumbledore's demonstration when I return," she instructed them. "I'll be back in a few minutes."  
  
A red-haired Gryffindor boy in the front row raised his hand. "Professor?"  
  
"Yes, Mr. Weasley?" she said.  
  
"How are you going to follow them without being seen?"  
  
She took a deep breath, closed her eyes, and transformed into a cat.  
  
He slapped himself on the forehead. "Duh."  
  
"Only you, Lyle," said another Gryffindor, and chuckled. "Only you."  
  
~~~  
  
Minerva could easily slip through the castle undetected in cat form, and it wasn't long before she caught up to Dumbledore, Hawkins, and McCarthy. They went into an empty classroom, and she slipped in through the door as McCarthy closed it behind him. Hawkins motioned for Dumbledore to sit down in one of the desks. He did, and the Minister of Magic and the head of the Department of Magical Law enforcement turned two desks around around and sat so they were facing him. Minerva watched them from the safety of a dark corner under a table.  
  
Hawkins began the questioning. "Albus, we're going to ask you some questions regarding the murder of Armando Dippet. Do you agree to answer all questions truthfully to the best of your knoweldge and ability?"  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Yes."  
  
So that's what this is about, Minerva thought. She almost couldn't believe it. Did they suspect Dumbledore of committing the murder? That was ludicrous.  
  
"Good. We'll start with the basics. Were you and Professor Dippet on good terms?"  
  
"We were friends, if that's what you mean," Dumbledore replied.  
  
Hawkins scrawled something down on a piece of paper in front of him. "Were you aware of a romantic relationship between Armando Dippet and Minerva McGonagall?"  
  
From her corner, Minerva could see Dumbledore stiffen.  
  
"Yes, I was," Dumbledore said quietly.  
  
"How did you feel about this?"  
  
He hesitate before answering, searching his mind for the right words. "I was happy for them. What else could I feel?"  
  
McCarthy began naming things off. "Bitterness, anger, rage, jealousy-"  
  
"Noah!" Hawkins interrupted. McCarthy shut up, and Hawkins continued. "So you were happy for them."  
  
"That's what I said," Dumbledore confirmed.  
  
"Yes, but is it what you did?" McCarthy asked.  
  
Hawkins glared at his partner. "Noah, if you cannot conduct yourself in a professional manner-"  
  
"Sorry," McCarthy mumbled, and fell silent. They all knew he was apologizing to Hawkins and not to Dumbledore, and even then he didn't mean it.  
  
Minerva wanted to scratch McCarthy's eyes out. He obviously thought Dumbledore was guilty. The bastard... He'd always been like that; performing his duties with such zeal that he would take out innocents on his way to get to the criminals. She sometimes wondered why Hawkins kept him around.  
  
Hawkins continued. "Do you know how long Dippet and McGonagall were involved?"  
  
"A little over a week," Dumbledore answered.  
  
"When did it end?"  
  
"The day he died."  
  
"Armando Dippet didn't die, Professor," McCarthy snapped. "He was murdered, slaughtered, butchered, gutted and filleted like a fish."  
  
Hawkins glared at him. "That wasn't necessary."  
  
McCarthy folded his arms across his head and said, "My apologies, Minister."  
  
Hawkins turned his attention back to Dumbledore. "So their relationship ended the day he lost his life."  
  
"Correct."  
  
"Do you think their relationship would have lasted longer had the tragedy not occured?"  
  
"No."  
  
Hawkins clearly did not expect that answer. "No?" he repeated.  
  
"No," Dumbledore said again.  
  
"And why is that?"  
  
"Because it ended before his death."  
  
Hawkins wrote on his paper again. "Do you know why it ended?" he asked, and set his quill down.  
  
"Armando believed she was in love with someone else and wanted her to be happy," Dumbledore answered. "The decision to end their relationship was prompted by him."  
  
"Is she?" asked McCarthy.  
  
Yes, Minerva thought, but don't come right out and say that, Albus.  
  
"Whether she is or not, it still ended on friendly terms," Dumbledore said.  
  
If Minerva could smile, she would have. Good answer, she thought.  
  
"Do you know the identity of the 'someone else'?" inquired Hawkins.  
  
Well, so much for that. "Yes," was Dumbledore's answer.  
  
"Who?" Hawkins asked.  
  
"The man you've been questioning for the last few minutes."  
  
"You?" McCarthy exclaimed. "You're with Minerva McGonagall?"  
  
Dumbledore fought the urge to roll his eyes. "Yes, as you so crudely put it."  
  
Hawkins sighed and looked at his partner. "Noah, come with me. Albus, we'll be right back."  
  
Hawkins stood up and motioned for McCarthy to do the same. They stepped outside the classroom, and Minerva followed them. She had a feeling she would want to hear this.  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Hawkins asked as soon as they were outside. "You've all but come right out and accused him of the murder."  
  
"Think about it, Tobias," McCarthy spat. "I've spent my entire life in law enforcement. I know what a crime looks like. Someone would not kill Armando Dippet without a motive. Dumbledore was in love with McGonagall, but as long as Dippet was around, she would never be his. That's a pretty good motive, if you ask me."  
  
Hawkins gestured toward the classroom and said, "Dumbledore just told us that Dippet was the one who decided to end what he and McGonagall had. Just because Dumbledore carried a torch for a woman that was off-limits does not make him a murderer."  
  
"And yet he admitted that he and McGonagall are together now," said McCarthy. "I find that extremely suspicious. What if they were in it together?"  
  
Hawkins had just about had enough of him. "I no more suspect Albus Dumbledore of committing the murder than I do Quinn Grindelwald," the Minister of Magic said. "Yes, I agree, it is suspicious, but why? They have nothing to gain."  
  
"Not yet," McCarthy growled. "Grindelwald is headmaster now. If something happens to him, Rachel Revueltas takes over, and guess who the next one in line is? Dumbledore."  
  
"But what about McGonagall? What's in it for her?"  
  
"Are you familiar with Shakespeare's play 'Macbeth'?"  
  
"Of course I am," Hawkins said. "You remember, don't you? We performed it here at Hogwarts. I was a sixth-year, and you were a fourth-year. I was Banquo and you were Macduff."  
  
"Right," McCarthy said with a nod. "Anyway, as you know, in that play, Lady Macbeth convinced her husband to murder his way into power. What if that's the case here?"  
  
"Now I don't follow," said Hawkins. "First you accuse Dumbledore, and now you accuse McGonagall?"  
  
"I haven't accused anyone yet."  
  
"Well, you sure as hell are moving in that direction. It goes deeper than what we're seeing. It could be Revueltas, for all we know. She's next in line behind Grindelwald, and perhaps she set it up so the suspicion fell on Dumbledore and/or McGonagall."  
  
"Perhaps Dumbledore and/or McGonagall set it up to make it look like Revueltas was trying to set them up so we would accuse her of the murder because we thought Dumbledore and/or McGonagall were set up."  
  
Hawkins blinked and scratched his head. "Come again?"  
  
McCarthy sighed. "Never mind. Fine. We'll let Dumbledore off the hook for now, but if anything happens to Grindelwald..."  
  
There was no need for him to finish.  
  
Minerva needed to get back to the Transfiguration classroom before Dumbledore did. She began moving through the school in that direction, and changed back into herself once she was outside the door to the classroom. As soon as she came in, the students began bombarding her with questions. She held up her hand for silence, and once it was granted, said, "Minister Hawkins and Mr. McCarthy had to ask Professor Dumbledore some questions regarding the death of Professor Dippet."  
  
"They think he killed Professor Dippet, don't they?" a Ravenclaw boy asked.  
  
"That's ridiculous, Mark," another Ravenclaw said. "Why would they ever think that?"  
  
Lyle Weasley let out a series of coughs that sounded a lot like "Professor McGonagall."  
  
"Mr. Weasley," Minerva said warningly.  
  
Lyle smiled innocently. "Is there any truth to the rumors that there's something going on between you and Professor Dumbledore, Professor McGonagall?"  
  
Minerva was saved from answering by the sound of footsteps echoing through the hall. It was probably Dumbledore. "Professor Dumbledore's coming," she told them. "Remember, you've all been working very hard the entire time. I hope, for your sake, that you did get those notes copied down, though."  
  
Every head in the room nodded.  
  
"Good." She pulled out her wand, pointed it at the chair Dumbledore had accidentally turned into a snowball earlier, and succeeded in transfiguring it into a snowglobe. "And that," she said, holding the snowglobe high as Dumbledore came in, "concludes today's lesson."  
  
The students clapped, and a smiling Dumbledore walked up to his temporary substitute. "They never clapped for the snowglobe lecture before," he commented. Then he shrugged and said, "Must be the new teacher."  
  
She smiled back at him. "Must be." Then, in a soft voice, she said, "What was that about?"  
  
"I'll tell you later," he whispered back. Somehow, though, he got the feeling that she already knew.  
  
~~~  
  
A/N: Thanks to everyone who has read. I'm glad you're enjoying it. Sorry there was no Grindelwald in this chapter... hee hee, I love that guy almost as much as I hate him. If you think he's evil now, wait until later... *cackles* Okay, okay, I'm done. ^_^ 


	11. The Invitation

CHAPTER ELEVEN: THE INVITATION  
  
~~~  
  
  
Several months passed. September faded into October, October into Novemeber, November into December, and December into a damp, dreary January. The Ministry of Magic was no closer to finding the person that killed Armando Dippet, although Noah McCarthy was convinced that Albus Dumbledore had a hand in the murder. At this point, no one was taking him seriously anymore, and rumor had it Tobias Hawkins was searching for a replacement.  
  
Then there was the matter of the war. The war the Muggles had named World War II was getting progressively worse. Winston Churchill, the British prime minister, had made contact with Hawkins several times, asking him to get involved. Hawkins disliked not being able to give Churchill an answer, but he was afraid that even if the wizards did join the Muggles, their enemy would get wizards on his side, too. The best way to keep that from happening was to keep wizards out of the war completely, but on the other hand, how did they know the enemy did not already have the help of wizards? Could one society survive without the other?  
  
Things had only slightly improved at Hogwarts since the death of the headmaster. Fear rested in all of their hearts, a fear that would never be lifted until the murderer was found and the matter of the war was resolved. Many students and faculty members, especially the ones with Muggle blood in them, knew people who had died in the war, and no one in Natalie Cypher's family had heard from her brother since early November. The Muggle Studies class had never been more popular.  
  
Hawkins had eased up on the faculty partner thing for everyone except Grindelwald. He was still convinced that the headmaster was in danger, and didn't want to take any chances. On the outside, Grindelwald seemed to be growing irritated with this system, but secretly, he was glad Hawkins insisted on keeping it. It kept him above suspicion, for one thing, and for another, allowed him more proximity to Minerva McGonagall than he would under other circumstances. As he and Minerva grew closer, she would become as easy to manipulate as Dippet had...  
  
~~~  
  
"What are you doing?"  
  
Those were the first words out of Minerva McGonagall's mouth when she walked into Quinn Grindelwald's office after classes one day in early January and saw the headmaster hanging upside down by his knees from a bar above a window, reading a letter. Grindelwald sighed. "It's a long story," he answered, and dropped down from the bar. Blood rushed out of his head, and he was overcome by a temporary sensation of dizziness.   
  
He stumbled to the side, and Minerva caught him before he could fall. "Thank you," he said, standing up straight. He then smiled and added, "Perhaps I should come down slower next time."  
  
"Perhaps you should not have been up there in the first place," Minerva repeated. "What were you doing, anyway?"  
  
Grindelwald sighed and showed her the letter he had been reading. "It's that wretched Noah McCarthy again," he said. "I felt a headache coming on as soon as I saw who it was from, and decided to save my mind the trouble and give myself the headache beforehand."  
  
"You're a strange man, Quinn Grindelwald," she replied. "What is McCarthy harping about this week?"  
  
"Albus," Grindelwald answered. Dumbledore had told both of them about his interrogation the day after it had taken place. "He's convinced that he's guilty, that bas... illegitimate son."  
  
Minerva chuckled softly. "You can say it, Quinn. He's a bastard."  
  
"I can't understand why McCarthy is so set on pinning the murder on Albus," he said. "I want them to find Armando's killer, too, but not when innocent lives are destroyed along the way." Then, his eyes lit up, as if something had just occured to him. "What if it was McCarthy who did it?"  
  
She shook her head. "I doubt Noah McCarthy has ever so much as jaywalked. Anyway, how could he have gotten up there without anyone seeing him?" She glanced from side to side, as if they were making sure they were alone, and then whispered, "To tell you the truth, I think there might be an insider."  
  
"An insider?" Grindelwald asked. "Whatever gave you that idea?"  
  
"First of all, an attacker could never have gotten up here without a password."  
  
"Good point. Any guesses as to who it might be?"  
  
Minerva shrugged. "I have no idea. All I know is that it's not Albus, no matter what McCarthy thinks."  
  
Suddenly, an idea came to him. Grindelwald doubted that Minerva suspected him as the insider, so he could probably find some way to twist that to his advantage. For a moment, he thought he could pin the murder on Tom Riddle, but quickly pushed that notion aside. Riddle may not have liked the fact that Dippet had been involved with Minerva, but he would not have resorted to murder. Besides, it had been determined that Riddle had indeed been stunned before Dippet was killed, and even with the use of truth serum, his story remained the same. Tom Riddle did not kill Armando Dippet, but someone else did, and with a little bit of help from him, the world would know who.  
  
Or rather, they would think they knew.  
  
"Indeed," Grindelwald said. "Keep your eyes open. Perhaps the guilty party will reveal themself soon."  
  
"But not at the expense of another life, I hope."  
  
"Let's hope not. Do you have papers to correct?"  
  
She nodded. "Essays from the second-years."  
  
"Go ahead and use my desk. I've got to go over some more letters, and I don't need my desk for that."  
  
"All right," Minerva said, "but on one condition. Keep your feet on the ground."  
  
Grindelwald laughed. "It's a deal."  
  
He took the stack of letters from his desk and carried them over to an armchair. He sat down, heaved a sigh, and began sorting through the pile. One letter toward the middle caught his eye, and he opened it and read it. He was almost ready to dismiss it as nothing when another idea hit him. Yes. This was perfect. After all, now was as good a time as any to say good-bye to Hogwarts.  
  
Grindelwald smiled to himself and put the letter in his pocket. He wondered how the others would react when the murderer turned out to be someone they never would have suspected.  
  
~~~  
  
Albus Dumbledore was on his way to the library later that night to do some research when a familiar voice caused him to come to a halt. He turned around and saw Grindelwald walking toward him. "Hello, Quinn," Dumbledore said. "Where's Minerva?"  
  
"Staff room," Grindelwald answered.  
  
"Shouldn't she be with you?" Dumbledore asked. He'd caught Grindelwald gazing at Minerva with a lusty look in his eyes several times over the last few weeks, and it irritated him greatly. When he mentioned it to Minerva, she said she hadn't noticed.  
  
"It's all right," Grindelwald said dismissively. "I just had to find you. This won't take long."  
  
"What is it?"  
  
Grindelwald pulled something out of his pocket. It was a piece of paper. "Tobias Hawkins sent me this earlier today," he said. "The American Muggles have reelected their president, and the inaugural ball is in two weeks. Prime Minister Churchill informed Minister Hawkins that President Roosevelt desires their attendance, but Hawkins will be unable to go. Churchill asked him to pass the invitation on to a person of his choosing, and Hawkins selected me."  
  
"No, Quinn, I don't mind if you take Minerva," Dumbledore said sarcastically. "Go right ahead."  
  
"Actually, I was going to ask you if you would attend the ball in my place."  
  
Dumbledore wasn't sure he had heard correctly. "What?"  
  
"It could be fun," Grindelwald said. "It would give you a chance to meet delegates from both the wizard and Muggle world, and who knows? You might even have fun."  
  
He shook his head. "I doubt it."  
  
"Oh, come on. It's a ball. Everyone loves balls."  
  
"I don't dance."  
  
"You can learn. You have two weeks."  
  
"No, no, you heard me wrong," Dumbledore said. "I can dance; I just choose not to."  
  
"And why not?"  
  
"I can never find a dance partner."  
  
"So take Minerva. I'm sure she'd enjoy it, and I don't want to send her over there by herself," Grindelwald said. "Come on, Albus. What do you have to lose?"  
  
Dumbledore sighed. "Fine. I'll take it."  
  
"Excellent. I'll tell Minerva."  
  
He turned around and began to walk away, but was stopped when Dumbledore placed a hand on his shoulder. "No," the Transfiguration instructor said. "I will."  
  
~~~  
  
Minerva didn't leave the staff room until she was ready to go to bed. She'd heard Dumbledore was in the library and decided to head down there to say good night. However, just outside the staff room, she spotted something that would impede her progress: Tom Riddle. She sighed, rolled her eyes, and said, "What do you want, Riddle?"  
  
"Oh, so I'm Riddle now, am I?" he returned. "Whatever happened to calling me Tom?"  
  
"I only call people I like by their first names."  
  
"You used to like me," Riddle said, stepping closer to her.  
  
"But never as much as you liked me," Minerva replied, backing up, and then frowning once she realized she was against the wall.  
  
Riddle continued to close in on her. "I think you did," he said, "and never realized it."   
  
He was close enough to touch her now, and did, on the cheek. She slapped his hand away. "And I think you're just a silly little boy with a crush."  
  
Riddle took several steps closer to her, and then placed both his hands on the wall, trapping her in place. "You're only three years older than me, Minerva," he said. "Don't go thinking you're all grown up just because you've suddenly become Dumbledore's little whore. In a few months, he'll get tired of you and move on to someone else. Did you honestly think that a man his age would have any real interest in you?"  
  
"Someone like you could never begin to comprehend what Albus and I see in each other," Minerva said.  
  
"He's that good, eh?"  
  
"For your information, Albus and I haven't even discussed anything remotely related to what you're implying. Wherever you're going with this, you're wrong."  
  
"You know, Min, you're not as strong as you think you are."  
  
She was unable to respond, for as soon as he spoke those words, his mouth was covering hers in a kiss filled with lust. Minerva tried to push him away, but he was too strong. Riddle pressed his body against her, and then slid his hands into her robes. He was just starting to touch her in places no woman wants to be touched by a man she despises when did the only thing she could think of - bit that snakelike tongue of his that was swimming around her mouth.  
  
Riddle was so surprised that he stumbled backwards. "Bitch," he hissed, and slapped her across the face. He tried to grab her again, but she had vanished. In her place was a cat. The cat ran under his legs, and when it was a safe distance away, transformed back into Minerva. He mentally kicked himself for forgetting about her Animagus abilities.  
  
In the blink of an eye, she had her wand out and was pointing it at him. "Tom Marvolo Riddle," she said in a tone of voice that was soft, but filled with bitterness, "if you ever touch me again, I swear on the sword of Godric Gryffindor that I will kill you."  
  
"You wouldn't kill me," Riddle muttered to himself as she walked away.  
  
She stopped walking, turned around, and said, "Yes, I would."  
  
He slapped his forehead. Damn that acute hearing of hers.  
  
~~~  
  
After her encounter with Riddle, Minerva wasn't too enthusiastic about seeing anyone, but she thought she should say good night to Dumbledore anyway. His mood lately hadn't been exceptionally great, and she had a feeling it had something to do with her forming friendship with Grindelwald. She was almost certain that she truly loved Dumbledore, but she didn't know how their relationship was going to last if he kept acting so jealous every time she so much as spoke to another man. It didn't bother her at all if Dumbledore spent time with, say, Natalie Cypher, who was friendly and amusing in addition to being quite attractive. Minerva trusted him, but she wasn't so sure if he trusted her.  
  
She was walking down the hall toward the library when she saw someone coming from that direction. When the person got closer, she saw that it was Dumbledore. He saw her, too, and quickened his pace to reach her faster. He smiled at her, but his smile faded when he got a closer look at her. "Minerva," he said, "what happened to you? You- you're bleeding!"  
  
She then noticed a stinging sensation coming from her lips, and brought her hand to the painful area. When she pulled it away, she saw blood on her fingers. She must have sustained the injury when Riddle slapped her. "I had a run-in with Riddle on my way over."  
  
"Indeed," he said, eyeing her carefully. "What happened?"  
  
Minerva let out a sigh and summarized the incident. By the time she was finished, it was obvious that Dumbledore was fighting to keep control of himself. "How dare he?" he asked. "That... that... You should have broken his kneecaps."  
  
"Yes, and gotten arrested," she replied. "Knowing Noah McCarthy, he probably would have interpreted that as an attempt to get past Riddle so I could kill Quinn."  
  
Dumbledore rolled his eyes and nodded. "That's true. I'm sorry."  
  
"For what? It wasn't your fault, and it wasn't like you could have stopped it from happening."  
  
He ripped a piece of fabric from his robes and dabbed at the cut on her lip. "It should not have happened to you, or anyone, for that matter." He fought the urge to take her in his arms and hold her tightly. He doubted she would want any close physical contact with anyone so soon after being violated.  
  
As it turned out, even the simple action of cleaning her cut was enough to make her flinch. "I'm sorry," she said when he pulled his hand away. "I don't know what's come over me." She closed her eyes and silently reminded herself that this was Albus Dumbledore, not Tom Riddle, and he would never, ever hurt her. She couldn't let Riddle get to her. If she let fear of him rule her life, then he won. She had to prove to him - and herself - that she wasn't afraid.  
  
"I understand." He gave her the cloth. "Here."  
  
She thanked him and wiped at the cut. She then noticed that he was looking at her strangely, as if he wanted to say something, but wasn't sure if he should. Finally, she could stand his gaze no longer, and asked, "Is something wrong, Albus?"  
  
"You mean outside of the obvious fact that just when I thought nothing could make me dislike Tom Riddle any more than I already did, he proved me wrong?"  
  
"Yes, besides that," she answered. "You seem different lately, almost like... like you're not telling me something." She paused, then said, "It's Quinn, isn't it?"  
  
He sighed and turned away from her. "I don't understand, Minerva. This isn't natural for me. You mean so much to me, and after everything that's happened... if I lost you, be it to life, death, or another man, I don't know what I would do."  
  
So that's what this was about. She placed her hands on his shoulders and laid her head against his back. "I love you," she whispered, "and only you."  
  
He turned around, and for a few moments, the entire world around them ceased to exist as they looked into each other's eyes. Then Minerva smiled and said, "I would kiss you, but there's the small matter of this cut."  
  
Dumbledore smiled, too, and kissed her on the forehead. "I love you, too." Then, he remembered the Muggle ball, and said, "Listen. The American Muggles reelected their president, and they want delegates from the wizarding world at the inaugural ball in two weeks. Minister Hawkins had the initial invitation, but he cannot be there for some reason or another, so he passed it on to Quinn, who is also unable to attend. Quinn extended the invitation to me. Care to come along and make the experience endurable?"  
  
Minerva shrugged. "Why not? We can suffer through it together."  
  
"Excellent," he said. "I'll go tell Quinn."  
  
"Mind if I come along?"  
  
He took her hand and kissed it. "Well, if you insist."  
  
They began walking through the school hand in hand. Then Minerva laughed and said, "You know, Albus, we're acting like students."  
  
He kissed her on the cheek and said, "You say that like it's a bad thing." 


	12. The Inaugural Ball

A/N: Well, I thought that after all the trauma, our heroes should have some fun... ^_^ Historical figures that appear in this chapter include, but are not limited to: Winston Churchill, Franklin Roosevelt, Harry Truman, and Dwight Eisenhower. Enjoy, and thanks for reading, everyone. I'll do the individual thing when I have more time.  
  
~~~  
  
CHAPTER TWELVE: THE INAUGURAL BALL  
  
~~~  
  
"I can't breathe in this dress."  
  
If Albus Dumbledore hadn't been so blown away by the sight of Minerva McGonagall as they prepared to enter the ballroom in the residence of the American Muggle president, he probably would have laughed at her comment. She wore a cream-colored gown without any decoration other than the elegance of its simplicity, and gloves of the same color on her hands. Her raven-black hair was down, and held off her face by an ivory headband. He'd never really realized how long her hair was because she never wore it down; it reached to just above her waist. "You look incredible," he said, surprised he had the ability to do so.  
  
She smiled and smoothed out a wrinkle on his jacket. "Thank you. So do you."  
  
Dumbledore was wearing a tuxedo. "Strange clothes, these Muggles have," he said. He touched his tie, then added, "I can't understand why in the world they would try to choke themselves."  
  
"Professor Dumbledore? Professor McGonagall?" came a voice from behind.  
  
The two Hogwarts teachers turned around and saw themselves looking at Winston Churchill himself. "Hello, Prime Minister," Dumbledore said. "How are you?" The two of them had flown over with Churchill in a Muggle invention called an airplane, and they would be travelling together again when they returned to Europe.  
  
"Fine, thank you," Churchill returned. "President Roosevelt would like to meet you, but he and Vice President Truman are discussing some things with the ambassadors from Australia and Canada at the moment. I'll find you when he's available. Until then, you are free to enjoy yourselves." He sighed and glanced inside the ballroom. "Or at least attempt to, anyway."  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Thank you, Prime Minister."  
  
Churchill excused himself and left their company. Dumbledore motioned toward the ballroom, offered Minerva his arm, and said, "Shall we?"  
  
She took his arm, and they walked inside. Several people noticed the man with the long auburn hair and beard and the beautiful, dark-haired woman with him, but figured they were emissaries from some foreign country where everyone looked like that, and although they did not quite fit in, they did not stand out, either. Minerva tightened her grip on Dumbledore's arm, and he reached for her hand and patted it reassuringly. Neither one of them felt comfortable in the middle of a giant room filled with strangers, but as long as they had each other, that would suffice.  
  
"Look at all these people," Minerva commented, gazing around the room. "Are they all Muggles?"  
  
"No," he answered. "Remember? Prime Minister Churchill told us that wizards from the Soviet Union, Switzerland, France, Canada, Australia, China, and several other countries are here, too." He looked up, noticed someone, and cringed. He silently prayed to himself that this man would not notice him.  
  
No such luck. As if on cue, the man looked over and spotted them. He smiled broadly and waved. Dumbledore forced himself to smile and wave back. "See, look, there's one already," he said through clenched teeth. "Jean-Pierre Delacour."  
  
"Jean-Pierre Delacour," Minerva repeated, forcing a smile as well. "That doesn't help."  
  
"You don't like him, either?"  
  
"Not particularly."  
  
Jean-Pierre Delacour, the headmaster of Beauxbatons Academy of Magic, was, as Armando Dippet had once put it, "a member of the chosen few" - people Dumbledore didn't like that were not his enemies. There were anywhere from three to five names on the list at any given moment (depending on how well he was getting along with Theodore Chaplain, Hogwarts's Divination instructor, and whether or not he considered Peeves the poltergeist a "person"), and Delacour's was the first. The other two were Noah McCarthy and a distant cousin of Paul Fenner's named Linus. Tom Riddle's name had once been on the list, but in light of recent events, Riddle had graduated up to enemy status. He was no longer at Hogwarts; Hawkins had him removed after Minerva reported the incident.  
  
"Maybe he won't come over," Minerva said hopefully.  
  
No such luck. Delacour began weaving his way through the crowd, and as soon as he was within speaking distance, said, "Bonjour, Professeur Dumbly-dorr! It ees so wonderful to be seeing you 'ere."  
  
"Bonjour, Professeur Delacour," Dumbledore replied, trying to keep his expression neutral.  
  
Delacour's eyes fell upon Minerva, and he smiled. "And 'oo is thees beautiful young woman?"  
  
"Jean-Pierre, meet Professor Minerva McGonagall, Defense Against the Dark Arts instructor at Hogwarts," Dumbledore said. "Minerva, this is Jean-Pierre Delacour, headmaster of Beauxbatons." He knew she already knew that, but Delacour clearly expected a formal introduction.  
  
Minerva held out her hand, expecting Delacour to shake it. He kissed it instead. "Enchanter," he said.  
  
"Je ne parle pas le francais," she replied. That was about as far as her French took her.  
  
Delacour laughed. "That would imply otherwise, mademoiselle."  
  
"Là vous êtes!" came a voice from behind. "J'avais regardé partout pour vous."  
  
A smile that stretched from ear to ear appeared on Delacour's face, and Dumbledore and Minerva turned around. Standing behind them was the second most beautiful woman Dumbledore had ever seen. Silvery-blond hair hung in ringlets down to her waist, and her blue eyes sparkled like sapphires. Her teeth were as white as snow and perfectly even. A gown of golden silk accented her perfect body and shimmered with the slightest movement. It was then that he realized that she wasn't a "woman" at all - she was a veela.  
  
Delacour stepped between Dumbledore and Minerva, took the veela's hands, and kissed her on both cheeks. "Albus, Meenerva, I would like you to meet my wife, Nicolette. Nicolette, je voudrais presenter professeurs Albus Dumbly-dorr et Meenerva McGone-agall."  
  
"I am 'onored to meet you," she said, smiling at both of them and extending her hand to Minerva, who shook it, but only out of politeness. Nicolette moved her hand to Dumbledore next, clearly expecting him to kiss it. He shook it instead, with the same stiff formality as Minerva.  
  
She looked slightly peeved as she pulled her hand away, and suddenly didn't seem quite so beautiful. Delacour took over before Nicolette had the chance to get angry. "So, Albus, 'ow are things at 'Ogwarts? I was most upset when I 'eard about Armando Dippet," he said, and he did indeed look remorseful.  
  
"'E was," Nicolette confirmed. "I 'ave never seen 'im so un-appy."  
  
"Not much better," Dumbledore said in reponse to Delacour's question. "They haven't caught the murderer yet, and the Ministry's all but given up."  
  
"Are there any suspects?" Delacour asked.  
  
"No," Dumbledore said, electing to refrain from mentioning that he was the prime suspect.  
  
Delacour shook his head and sighed. "What ees the world coming to, I ask you? 'E was a great man, Professeur Dippet." He looked at Minerva and said, "Did you know 'im well?"  
  
Dumbledore barely had enough time to stop himself from flinching at Delacour's comment. Minerva had to take a deep breath and let it out slowly before answering. "Yes, I knew him quite well."  
  
Dumbledore and Minerva were saved from further interrogation when Winston Churchill appeared. "President Roosevelt is ready to see you, Professors," he said.  
  
Delacour nodded approvingly. "Wonderful man, President Roosevelt. I 'ope you will like 'im."  
  
Nicolette greeted Churchill and then excused herself to go get cocktails for herself and Delacour.  
  
"I'll let you say good-bye to your friend," Churchill said, and then stepped a few feet away.  
  
"Au revoir, Jean-Pierre," Dumbledore said, and then lied, "It was good to see you."  
  
"The pleasure was all mine, Albus," Delacour replied, shaking Dumbledore's hand enthusiastically.  
  
"It sure was," Dumbledore mumbled under his breath as Delacour moved on to Minerva.  
  
"I insist that you save me a dance, mademoiselle," he said, taking her hand and kissing it. "La veela est gentil, mais parfois, des longs d'un homme pour la compagnie d'une vraie femme." He dropped her hand and then winked.  
  
Dumbledore closed his eyes and silently counted to threee.  
  
"We'll see," Minerva said. She took Dumbledore's arm. "Let's go, Albus."  
  
"I really don't like that man," Dumbledore commented once they were a safe distance away.  
  
"What did he say to me just then?" she asked.  
  
He shook his head. "You don't want to know."  
  
"That's right, you don't," came Churchill's voice. The British Prime Minister looked at Dumbledore and said, "I admire you, Professor. If another man said that to my wife, I would never have been able to maintain my composure like you did."  
  
"We're not married," Dumbledore said, and both he and Minerva turned slightly red. Little did either one of them know they were thinking the same thing: Not yet, anyway.  
  
"My mistake," Churchill said. "Ah, Mr. President!"  
  
Dumbledore and Minerva turned their heads and noticed a man sitting in a wheelchair, flanked by two other men on either side. The man in the wheelchair extended his hand to Dumbledore. "Franklin Roosevelt," he said. "Pleased to meet you..."  
  
"Albus Dumbledore," Dumbledore said, shaking Roosevelt's hand. He'd met world leaders before, but rarely Muggle ones, and there was something about Roosevelt that seemed different from the others. It might have had something to do with the fact that he had been elected president of the United States for the fourth consecutive time and he was in a wheelchair.  
  
Roosevelt introduced himself to Minerva next, and she to him. He looked quite pleased. "I'm so glad you could come," he said. He motioned to the man on his right, then on his left, and said, "Please, I'd like to meet Vice President Harry Truman and General Dwight Eisenhower."  
  
The two wizards shook hands with the vice president and the general. Roosevelt spoke again. "How are things in your part of the world? Is the war taking its toll there as well?"  
  
They all knew "your part of the world" referred to the wizarding world. "Not directly, but we can feel it," Dumbledore said. "It is growing increasingly difficult to refrain from getting involved."  
  
Roosevelt nodded. "Well, we could certainly use your help. God knows we need all the help we can get," he said, and Truman, Eisenhower, and Churchill nodded.  
  
"That's not really our call," Minerva commented. "We don't have the authority to make any decisions like that."  
  
Truman smiled. "Not to worry, for this is hardly an event to discuss such things, anyway. Really, sir, I thought you knew better than that."  
  
Roosevelt laughed. "You're right, and yes, I know."  
  
Churchill was smiling, too, but Eisenhower wasn't, and Roosevelt noticed this and inquired about it. "With all due respect, sir, I see no reason why this should be taken so lightly," the general grumbled. "There's a war going on."  
  
Minerva noticed that he ended his sentence with a preposition and had to bite her tongue to keep from saying anything.  
  
"Oh, lighten up, General," Roosevelt said. "I think you've earned a few hours of relaxation."  
  
Eisenhower refrained from further comment. They conversed on various topics for about ten minutes or so, and then Roosevelt and Churchill excused themselves to do a scheduled interview with the media with Joseph Stalin, the leader of the Soviet Union. The duo of Truman and Eisenhower bade farewell to Dumbledore and Minerva, and once they were gone, Dumbledore asked Minerva if she would like to dance. She accepted, and they spent the next half hour on the dance floor.  
  
After a while, Churchill approached them again and told them Stalin wanted to meet them. They discussed random things with Stalin for a while, and then Dumbledore and Churchill got into a conversation about Nazi concentration camps on mainland Europe. Minerva listened for a few minutes, but gradually began to grow bored.  
  
Seeing she had lost interest in Dumbledore and Churchill's conversation, Stalin asked Minerva for a dance, and with Dumbledore's approval, they moved out onto the dance floor. However, after only a few minutes, one of Stalin's men came up to him and whispered something in his ear. Stalin asked her forgiveness and excused himself. Minerva looked around for Dumbledore and Churchill, but could not see them. She suddenly felt very lost.  
  
Minerva glanced around the room, hoping to spot Dumbledore. He would be fairly easy to find if he passed within her line of sight. She saw him at the opposite end of the room, still talking to Churchill. A wave of relief washed over her, and she began walking in that direction. The last thing she wanted was to be alone in a room full of strange Muggles.  
  
As it turned out, seconds later, a voice made her change her mind. Being alone in a room full of strange Muggles was better than being in the company of Jean-Pierre Delacour, who was walking in her direction. His veela wife was nowhere in sight. "Well, it seems I have finally caught you alone," he said. "I'm ready for that dance, if you are."  
  
She would rather dance with a complete stranger, and without even thinking, she grabbed the arm of the nearest man and said, "I'm sorry, Professor Delacour, but I was just going to dance with..." She then saw whose arm she was hold on to, and tried not to show her surprise as she finished the phrase. "General Eisenhower."  
  
Eisenhower looked startled, too, but then noticed Delacour. "Yes, that's right," he said. "Maybe next time, Professeur Delacour."  
  
Delacour looked slightly miffed as Minerva and Eisenhower walked out onto the dance floor, but soon lost interest and began seeking out Nicolette.  
  
"Thank you, General," Minerva said to Eisenhower as they danced. "I don't know what I would have done if..."  
  
"Don't mention it," Eisenhower said dismissively. "It was the least I could do to get you away from that man."  
  
"You know Jean-Pierre Delacour?"  
  
"Yes, unfortunately. You're lucky I met other wizards before I met him, otherwise my impression of the rest of you wouldn't be close to what it is."  
  
"Just because one wizard is like Delacour doesn't make us all that way."  
  
"Yes, I know."  
  
"Just as one bad Muggle does not make all of you bad."  
  
Eisenhower smiled. "Yes, that, too."  
  
It wasn't often that Minerva met a Muggle she liked, but Eisenhower definitely fell into that category. She liked Roosevelt, too. In fact, she found all the Muggles she had met that evening quite likeable - all four of them, anyway; Eisenhower, Roosevelt, Truman, and Stalin. She wasn't counting Churchill; although she liked him as well, she met him that morning. She wondered what would have happened if she had randomly selected another Muggle instead of Eisenhower. Would she be dancing with Jean-Pierre Delacour right now? She didn't think the veela would appreciate that very much, especially after the comment Delacour made when she and Dumbledore left with Churchill to meet Roosevelt. She still had no idea what the man said, but from the reactions both Dumbledore and Churchill had, she gathered that it was not repeatable and that neither had any intention of telling her.  
  
Then, she had an idea. "General Eisenhower," she said, "do you speak French?"  
  
Eisenhower nodded. "Enough to hold up my end of a conversation. Why?"  
  
"What does this mean?" she asked, and repeated what Delacour told her.  
  
Eisenhower grimaced. "Did Delacour say that to you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
He shook his head. "You don't want to know, and I don't think whoever Veela is would want to, either."  
  
After the song ended some five minutes later, Minerva thanked Eisenhower again for rescuing her from Delacour and went over to Dumbledore, who was still talking to Churchill. By this time, the topic had shifted from the war to the entertainment industry. That change had come at about the same time Minerva started dancing with Eisenhower, when Dumbledore noticed a man that bore a striking resemblance to a young Armando Dippet. He did a double take when he saw the man that looked so much like the murdered headmaster, and asked Churchill if he knew who he was. Churchill replied in the affirmative and told him that he was an actor named Humphrey Bogart.  
  
"I'll leave you two alone," Churchill said with a smile when Minerva came up to them, and excused himself.  
  
Dumbledore took Minerva's hands, kissed her on the cheek, and said, "I'm no Joseph Stalin, but would you like to dance with me anyway?"  
  
She smiled and replied, "You're no General Eisenhower either, but I would love to dance with you just the same."  
  
"General Eisenhower?" Dumbledore repeated as they made their way onto the dance floor. "You danced with him, too?"  
  
"It was an accident," she said. "I was walking toward you and Prime Minister Churchill, and... and Jean-Pierre Delacour spotted me. He asked me to dance, and I grabbed the arm of the nearest man and said I had already agreed to dance with him. It turned out to be General Eisenhower."  
  
Dumbledore laughed. "Only you could accidently land a dance with a general, Minerva McGonagall. Only you."  
  
"I don't understand why Delacour wanted to dance with me in the first place," Minerva said. "I mean, his wife's a veela..."  
  
"Oh, she's not so wonderful."  
  
"I bet you're jealous."  
  
"I bet I'm not. Why would I want anything to do with a veela when I have you?" he asked. "I thought you were the most beautiful woman in the world before I fell in love with you." Suddenly, he stopped all movement, and a pained look crossed his face. It almost felt like a bomb had gone off in his head, and the pain was so intense that he could barely stand.  
  
Minerva helped him over to a chair, and then asked, "What is it? What's wrong?"  
  
He pressed his hands to his temples and squeezed his eyes shut. "There's something happening at Hogwarts," he answered. His voice was so constricted with pain that it was difficult to make out what he was saying. "Something... terrible..." 


	13. A Glimpse of Destiny

A/N: Okay, random babble from me before you can read. ^_^ Once again, I am too lazy to do the individual thing, so I will just tackle some of the things brought up in your reactions to the last chapter. Yes, Delacour is a player. Aeryn, you were almost right as far as what he said, and it may have turned into that when I translated it. Anyway, what it's supposed to say is, "A veela is nice, but sometimes, a man longs for the company of a real woman." *shakes fist at Delacour* The big jerk. We should chop him into tiny pieces and bury him in the wall. Or better yet, why don't we make him next on Grindelwald's hit list? ^_^ Actually, Grindelwald's hit list is pretty full right now, as you will probably find out... but anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter, and have a good day.  
  
Why are you still reading this?  
~~~  
  
CHAPTER THIRTEEN: A GLIMPSE OF DESTINY  
  
~~~  
  
While Albus Dumbledore nearly went crazy from pain, on the other side of the ocean, Quinn Grindelwald was walking down one of the hallways of the school with the Arithmancy instructor, head of Ravenclaw house, and deputy headmistress, Rachel Revueltas. They had just broken up an unauthorized duel between a third-year Gryffindor, Lyle Weasley, and a fifth-year Slytherin, Horatio Malfoy. Rachel was slightly irritated with Grindelwald; when they arrived on the scene, he didn't seem quite so concerned when he saw that a Slytherin student was involved, and when he saw it was Malfoy, the punishment became even less. The two boys were given a warning for the duel and five points from both of their houses for being out of bed after hours. Rachel was not a fan of favoritism. She knew that if there had not been a student from Slytherin house, they would have been punished severely for their acts.  
  
"Oh, lighten up, Rachel," Grindelwald said, noticing that she had an angry air about her. "Nothing happened."  
  
"That's not the point, Quinn," she replied. "Something could have happened, and they're only lucky we got there in time to stop it. Do you remember what happened the last time two students dueled? Carl Longbottom was halfway transfigured into a kangaroo, and we had to interrupt Professor Dumbledore's class to change him back! And you know how Albus teaches; he likes to get the students involved, and so he let Minerva McGonagall change him back! Granted, she was his star student, and I have the highest opinion of both of them, but still... the duel shouldn't have happened in the first place, and do you notice how it's almost always Gryffindors and Slytherins? I telll you, Quinn, you won't ever catch a student of my house duelling!"  
  
"The operative word in that sentence being 'catch'?" Grindelwald asked with a mischievous smile.  
  
Rachel wasn't in the mood for humor. "That wasn't funny. What if one of them was transformed into a wombat or some other Australian marsupial?"  
  
"Wombats are marsupials?"  
  
"Yes, they are."  
  
"Oh. Well, then we wound simply change him back. Just because the rest of us don't teach Transfiguration does not mean we are inadept at it. Armando was an Animagus, and he always taught Potions."  
  
Rachel's expression suddenly went from angry to very sad, and she stopped walking.  
  
Grindelwald noticed her change in mood. He stopped walking, too, and his joking demeanor vanished. "Rachel," he said softly, "it's been months. Armando's dead. He's not coming back. We have to move on with our lives."  
  
"He's not just dead, Quinn," Rachel said. The tremble in both her voice and her body indicated that she was scared. "He was savagely murdered, and his killer is still roaming free. How can you take this so lightly when you could very well be next?"  
  
"The only person that has been giving us problems since... the incident has been Noah McCarthy. He was trying to pin the blame on Albus, and that was only because he thought the Minerva thing looked too suspicious for him to not be considered," Grindelwald replied. "It was probably just some passing rogue who was in the mood for shedding blood and has since moved on to a different area."  
  
She shook her head. "I don't think so. Whoever killed Armando obviously put a lot of thought into it. I mean, think about it. The killer sent you his head and Minerva McGonagall his heart. I doubt that was random. And how else could he have gotten up there without a password, anyway? I know the castle is more secure than that. There has to be an insider... but who?"  
  
"Nothing has happened in months. I think we're safe."  
  
"Until the killer is caught, no one is safe."  
  
"Nothing can bring Armando back, Rachel. Obsessing over his death will accomplish nothing."  
  
Rachel wiped at her eyes with the back of her hand and said, "I miss him so much."  
  
Grindelwald put his arms around her and hugged her tightly. "We all do," he said. "Not a day goes by when I don't think of him."  
  
She returned her friend's embrace. "Don't let anything happen to you, Quinn."  
  
"I'll do my best."  
  
As they let go of each other, Grindelwald let a small glass vial holding traces of red liquid slip into her pocket. "Get some sleep, Rache," he said. "We'll talk more in the morning."  
  
"If I'm not mistaken, I believe it already is morning."  
  
He almost laughed. "You know what I mean."  
  
~~~  
  
Within an hour after the ball was over, Winston Churchill, Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and everyone else that had come over with them were flying over the Atlantic. The original plan had been to stay overnight and fly back in the morning, but Churchill wanted to get back as soon as possible, and with Dumbledore's sudden premonition of danger, the Prime Minister insisted that they return at once. The importance of thwarting a foe, known or otherwise, outweighed the annoyance of jet lag.  
  
Dumbledore had given up on trying to sleep. His body was exhausted, but his mind had far too much on it to even consider resting. He knew that there was something going on at Hogwarts, but what worried him almost as much as that was how and why he knew. He had never been much of a believer in fate, but now...  
  
Next to him, with her head on his shoulder, was Minerva, who appeared to be asleep, but he didn't think she was. His suspicions were confirmed when she lifted up her head and asked him a question. "Are you all right?"  
  
"You couldn't sleep, either?"  
  
She shook her head. "No. What's going on?"  
  
A look of surprise crossed Dumbledore's face, and he said teasingly, "Minerva McGonagall, did you just end a sentence with a preposition?"  
  
"Rats. Caught in my own trap. Let me restate that. What's on your mind?"  
  
"Do you believe in Divination?"  
  
Her face twisted into a grimace, and Dumbledore said, "I'll take that as a no."  
  
"Very much a no," Minerva replied, "but out of curiosity, why do you ask?"  
  
"I can see why you would be skeptical about Divination, seeing as Theodore Chaplain was your instructor," he said. "I know Chaplain tries and that he means well, but he is not a true Seer. True Seers are extremely rare; even more so than Animagi. I had the privilege of studying under one during my time as a student at Hogwarts."  
  
"Which one?" she asked. "A Seer or an Animagus?"  
  
"Actually, now that I think about it, he was both," he answered. "But anyway, after class one day, Professor Liem pulled me aside and told me something that I had all but forgotten until tonight. He told me that someday, I would be called to protect Hogwarts from a great evil, and that I would receive signs that the evil was coming. When it felt like my brain was exploding at the ball, I began thinking about his prophecy, and I can't help but wonder... is now that time?"  
  
"Are you sure he was a true Seer?"  
  
"He guessed my middle name on the first try, and he had no way of finding out beforehand," Dumbledore said. "After that, I was convinced."  
  
Minerva almost chuckled. "That would probably convince me, too. Any idea as to what this 'evil' might be?"  
  
He shook his head. "Not at all. That's the thing with Divination. It rarely explains things in details. It just suggests that things are coming, and it can usually get the nature of the thing. That's about it."  
  
She sighed softly. "Well, I still think it's a waste of time for the billions of us who lack the natural gifts. Why isn't there a class for studying to become Animagi?"  
  
"Because so few people have the natural ability," Dumbledore said, catching on to where she was going with this.  
  
"Exactly," she said. "It would be a waste of time. So why is there a Divination class if there are fewer experts in Divination than Animagi?"  
  
"You're right; it is a waste of time, but just the same... there's always that one in a million, and when you find that one, everything leading up to it was worth it," he said, and kissed her on the forehead.  
  
She smiled. "That has absolutely nothing to do with Divination."  
  
"True, but you have to admit, it was a good way to change the subject."  
  
"Well, next time you want to change the subject, just say something. Observe." She cleared her throat, and then said, "What did Jean-Pierre Delacour say to me that you, Prime Minister Churchill, and General Eisenhower all refused to translate?"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "Trust me, you don't want to know."  
  
"Yes, I do," she insisted. "Tell me."  
  
He sighed. "Fine," he said, and whispered the translation into her ear.  
  
Minerva suddenly turned as pale as a ghost. "You're right, I didn't want to know." The color came back to her face, and she pointed her finger at him and said, "And don't you dare say I told you so."  
  
He let out a soft chuckle. "You know I'm thinking it, so why not say it anyway?"  
  
"Because... because..." She couldn't think of a good reason. "Oh, just say it."  
  
"I told you so."  
  
"Well, if you're going to say it, at least say it like you mean it."  
  
"I told you so," he said with a little more feeling. "Moving on. I propose a change of subject." That wasn't all he wanted to propose, but thirty thousand feet over the Atlantic Ocean at such an ungodly hour was hardly the time to do it.  
  
"To what?" Minerva asked.  
  
He shrugged. "Anything you would care to discuss?"  
  
"Nothing comes to mind."  
  
Suddenly, he flinched.  
  
Minerva nearly jumped. "Are you all right?" she asked, taking his hand in one of hers and placing the other on his shoulder.  
  
"You're two inches away from me. Of course I'm all right."  
  
"That's not what I meant."  
  
"What did you mean?"  
  
"You know what I mean!"  
  
"Do I?"  
  
"Albus Dumbledore, would you put your wit away for one second?"  
  
"Starting when?"  
  
She sighed. "I give up."  
  
He kissed her on the cheek and said, "Is it time for another change of subject?"  
  
"Cabbage leaves. That's all I have to say to you."  
  
"Good, because I was tired of talking, too."  
  
Minerva smiled, shook her head, and leaned forward and kissed him. "So if we had kept talking for say, another half minute or so, do you think I would have won?"  
  
"Probably," he said, and returned the kiss with one of his own.  
  
"I thought we were done talking."  
  
"We are."  
  
Across the aisle, Winston Churchill opened one eye and saw them. "Lovebirds," he muttered to himself, and then smiled and went back to sleep.  
  
~~~  
  
Rachel Revueltas and Quinn Grindelwald did end up talking in the morning; morning as being judged by the rising of the sun and not the time indicated by a clock. Since becoming headmaster, Grindelwald found himself spending a lot more time with the woman who inherited his former position of deputy head. That didn't surprise him, but something else did - that he was actually starting to enjoy her company. He and Rachel had always been on friendly terms; the fact that they were closer in age to each other than any other staff members (he was forty-two, she was forty) didn't hurt. Perhaps, if things had been different... He pushed all those thoughts aside. Even if he wanted to, he was so deep into his plans that there was no way to get out, and he needed her to make everything run smoothly for him. Besides, he saw no reason to pursue Rachel Revueltas when he was so close to Minerva McGonagall. Just a few more weeks...  
  
After nearly half an hour of friendly conversation, Rachel said, "You probably have a lot to do, so I suppose I should leave you alone for a while."  
  
"Yes, I do," he confirmed. He did have a lot to do, but it wasn't what she was thinking. "Thank you for the conversation, Rachel. Feel free to stop by any time you wish."  
  
"Be careful what you say, Quinn. I may just take you up on that."  
  
Grindelwald smiled. "You say that like it's a bad thing."  
  
He offered to walk her to the door, and she accepted. "See you later, Quinn," she said.  
  
"Good-bye, Rachel," he returned. When she was gone, he added, "I won't be around to say that later."  
  
He then pulled out his wand and pointed it at himself.  
  
~~~  
  
As Rachel emerged from behind the statue of the gargoyle, she saw someone coming in her direction. It was Jennifer Hensley, the one who had taken over as Charms instructor when Grindelwald assumed the position of headmaster following Armando Dippet's death. Jennifer's arms were full of books, and she looked like she was in a hurry. "Is everything all right, Jennifer?" Rachel asked.  
  
Jennifer nodded. "Yes; I just need to speak to Quinn. There's this one charm I can't seem to get, and I have to teach it to the seventh-years tomorrow."  
  
"Well, in that case, he's the one to see," Rachel said. "Go on up. I just talked to him; he's in there."  
  
"Thank you," Jennifer said, and turned to the gargoyle. "Birdseed."  
  
The gargoyle slid to the side, and Jennifer began climbing the stairs that led to the headmaster's office. The going was slow due to her heavy load, and by the time she reached the top, she was almost out of breath. She did, however, have enough breath left to let out a bloodcurdling scream of horror when she opened the door to Grindelwald's office and saw what was inside.  
  
~~~  
  
Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall arrived at Hogwarts late that afternoon. Neither one had been able to sleep well on the plane, and travelling all night was tiring and changing time zones was bad enough. They were so exhausted they could barely think straight. That was why they thought they were seeing things when they returned to the school and found the entire place crawling with Aurors.  
  
When they came into the entrance hall, they were immediately met by two Aurors. "Identify yourselves," one of them said, pointing his wand at them. "State your name and your reason for being here."  
  
Dumbledore looked at Minerva, who looked just as confused as he did. "I'm Albus Dumbledore, and this is Minerva McGonagall," he said. "We're teachers."  
  
The second Auror stepped forward, and Minerva recognized him - it was Alastor Moody, the finest Auror the Ministry ever had. "I'll take it from here, Vince," Moody said to the first Auror. Vince excused himself, and Moody turned to the two puzzled teachers. "Come with me."  
  
He led them to the Great Hall, where all the students and faculty were assembled. Every single one of them looked devastated and terrified. "What's going on, Alastor?" Minerva asked her old friend.  
  
Moody was about to explain, but he was interrupted when Rachel Revueltas, who was bordering on hysteria, came up to them. "Albus! Minerva!" she exclaimed. "You have no idea how good it is to see you alive!"  
  
"What's going on, Rachel?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
Another Auror came up to Moody and whispered something in his ear. "Excuse me," he said, and then left their company.  
  
"It's happening again," Rachel said.  
  
"What's happening?" Minerva asked.  
  
Rachel was too distraught to reply.  
  
"Rachel," Dumbledore said, "what happened?"  
  
"It's horrible," she said in a choked whisper.  
  
At that moment, Noah McCarthy, flanked by two different Aurors, came walking up to them. "Empty your pockets, please, all three of you," McCarthy said.  
  
They did as they were told. Rachel was surprised to discover a glass vial with a few drops of red liquid in it in her pocket. "What the..." she said, too shocked to say anything coherent.  
  
"That's enough evidence for me," McCarthy said. "Combined with Professor Hensley's testimony, I don't think there can be any doubt now." He nodded to the Aurors, and each of them seized one of Rachel's arms. "Rachel Revueltas, you are under arrest for the murder of Quinn Grindelwald." 


	14. The Verdict

CHAPTER FOURTEEN: THE VERDICT  
  
~~~  
  
As the shocked and confused Rachel Revueltas was led away by the two Aurors, the equally shocked and confused Albus Dumbledore and Minerva McGonagall wondered what in the world Noah McCarthy was talking about. "What's going on, Mr. McCarthy?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
"Before I answer that, Professor Dumbledore, I must ask that you accept my most sincere apologies," McCarthy said.  
  
"For what?" Dumbledore asked.  
  
McCarthy nodded his head in the direction of the exit, through which the Aurors had taken Rachel, and said, "For suspecting you when it was really Revueltas who was behind it all."  
  
"Behind what?" Minerva inquired.  
  
"The murders," McCarthy answered.  
  
Dumbledore and Minerva looked at each other, then looked back at McCarthy, and said in unison, "What?!?"  
  
"Quinn Grindelwald is dead," McCarthy said. "His body was found this morning by Jennifer Hensley. Professor Hensley had to speak to Professor Grindelwald, and as she was getting ready to go up to his office, she saw Revueltas coming down. Hensley found the body when she got there. An autopsy found a lethal amount of acclobane in his system, and it was determined that the cause of death was poisoning. I bet you anything that the vial we just found in her pocket contained acclobane."  
  
Acclobane was a deadly poison, very difficult to obtain. Once could make it, though, if one was skilled enough, and as Rachel used to teach Potions... it wasn't beyond the realm of possibility. "You said 'murders'," Minerva said. "That means more than one. Who else did she kill?"  
  
"Armando Dippet, of course."  
  
Minerva felt her knees go weak, and she had to hold on to Dumbledore for support. "What?"  
  
McCarthy nodded. "Yes. Tragic, isn't it? We've been searching the entire school all day, and when we used a detransfiguration spell in her chambers, a lamp changed into a dagger encrusted with human blood. The weapon that killed Dippet was never found, and now we know why: Revueltas changed it into a lamp."  
  
Dumbledore couldn't believe his ears. Grindewald, dead? Rachel, a murderer? Neither one of those things seemed possible. "Are you sure about this?" he asked.  
  
"The evidence is overwhelming, Professor. The murder weapons were found in her custody, she was the last person to see Quinn Grindelwald alive, and she had a motive."  
  
"What was the motive?" Minerva asked.  
  
"Head of Hogwarts, of course," McCarthy answered. "Grindelwald was deputy head, and when Dippet was killed, he suceeded to headmaster and Revueltas became deputy head. With Dippet out of the way, Revueltas only had to get rid of one more person before the positon was hers." He paused, and then added, "And if I'm not mistaken, I believe the baton has now been passed to you, Professor Dumbledore."  
  
Headmaster of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Dumbledore had secretly always wanted the position, but he would never kill anyone to get it, and he wasn't sure he even wanted it under these circumstances. "I don't know if I'm up to it," he confessed.  
  
"Who's next in line?" Minerva asked.  
  
"Natalie Cypher," Dumbledore said.  
  
"Cypher?" McCarthy repeated. "How old is she?"  
  
"Twenty-nine," Dumbledore answered. "The order of succession is determined by the heads of houses that have held that position for the greatest amount of time. Rachel was head of Ravenclaw for ten years. I have been the head of Gryffindor for the last eight. Natalie has only been head of Hufflepuff house since the start of the term, but she still outranks Geoffrey Poe, head of Slytherin, who has been in that position since Quinn became headmaster."  
  
"Whatever you say," McCarthy said dismissively. "Anyway, find Cypher and inform her that she is now the deptuty head, or headmistress if you elect not to take the position. I've got to escort the prisoner back to London."  
  
"How long will the Aurors be here?" Minerva asked.  
  
"They should all be out by this evening," he said. "I'll send you a letter to let you know when the trial is." He bade them farewell and then departed.  
  
When McCarthy was gone, Minerva turned to Dumbledore and said, "I can't believe it! Rachel, a murderer!"  
  
"Somehow, I don't believe it, either," Dumbledore said. "The evidence is overwhelming, but Rachel just doesn't seem like the type that would..." He couldn't bring himself to finish the thought.  
  
Minerva wiped at the tears forming in her eyes and said, "I'll go find Natalie."  
  
She didn't have to - Natalie found them. "Albus! Minerva!" the new deputy headmistress said, running up to them. "You're back! Isn't this horrible? Who would have guessed? Rachel!"  
  
"I have a feeling that there's more to this situation than meets the eye," Dumbledore said. "Do you know if it would be possible for me to examine the body?"  
  
Natalie shook her head. "They've already taken it away. He's dead, Albus. He's very dead. The amount of acclobane they found in his system would have killed an elephant."  
  
"I believe that, but I don't believe Rachel was the murderer," he replied.  
  
"How do you know?" Natalie asked.  
  
"I can't explain. Somehow, I just know it wasn't her. It could be sleep deprivation, though."  
  
Natalie noticed that the two of them were so weary they could barely stand. "You'd both better get some sleep," she said. "You look like you'll be conscious for another five minutes at best."  
  
~~~  
  
A week later, Dumbledore received the letter they had all been waiting for: the date of Rachel's trial. It was to take place in London at the Ministry of Magic's courthouse on February fourth at one o'clock in the afternoon. In the letter, McCarthy hinted that the trial would probably be short and the verdict guilty, as there was so much evidence against Rachel that a trial was almost unnecessary. The faculty agreed that Dumbledore, as headmaster, would be the one to attend the trial. The others would stay at the school and keep things running as smoothly as possible.  
  
February fourth came faster than any of them expected, and Dumbledore found himself walking up the steps of the Ministry courthouse about fifteen minutes before Rachel's trial was scheduled to begin. A familiar voice caught his ear as he reached the entrance, and he turned around to see from where it was coming. Noah McCarthy was about halfway up the steps. "You're here," McCarthy said.  
  
"Of course I'm here," Dumbledore replied. "What reason would I have not to be here?"  
  
McCarthy shrugged. "I know, I know, rhetorical question. Are you planning to testify?"  
  
He shook his head. "I was out of the country at the time the crime was committed, and everyone knows my opinions of Rachel and her credibility. Testifying would be redundant."  
  
"You still think she's innocent?" McCarthy asked.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "I'm sure of it."  
  
"The evidence against her is overwhelming, Professor Dumbledore. How the murders could have been committed by anyone else is beyond my comprehension."  
  
That didn't surprise him. McCarthy had been considerably nicer toward him now that it was known he wasn't the murderer, but the man was still somewhat ignorant. However, Dumbledore had to admit that this time, things were in McCarthy's favor. Unless they could find the real killer in the next half hour, Rachel was most likely going to be spending the rest of her life in Azkaban.  
  
~~~  
  
"Your Honor, members of the jury, we stand before you today because terrible crimes have been committed against the entire wizarding world," said David Malachi, the prosecuting attorney, as he presented his opening arguments to the court. "Until two weeks ago, all who knew Rachel Revueltas thought her to be kind, friendly, unassuming, and harmless. However, this was all proven to be a lie when her true cunning, manipulative, ruthless nature was revealed. Revueltas is a bloodthirsty murderer, guilty of all crimes she here stands accused of."  
  
"Objection," piped up Jonathon Carson, the defense attorney.  
  
"Sustained," said the judge, Mina Bakater by name. "The jury shall decide the fate of the defendant, Mr. Malachi."  
  
"Of course, Your Honor," Malachi said nonchalantly. He looked toward the jury. "I will now take the time to present the evidence against Professor Revueltas," he told them. "She is being accused of murdering two of the greatest wizards in the world, Armando Dippet and Quinn Grindelwald. What was her motive, you might ask? Power. She was seeking power. With Dippet out of the way, Grindelwald would suceed to the position of headmaster, and if anything happened to him, she was next in line. I will concentrate on Armando Dippet first. Things were going pretty good for Professor Dippet. He was a well-respected figure in the wizarding world even before becoming headmaster of Hogwarts because of his skill as a potion-maker. He increased Hogwarts's academic reputation to a level even greater than before and brought together the world's foremost experts in their subject areas to teach the wizards and witches of tomorrow. He was even seeing someone, a powerful young witch as well as his fellow instructor, Minerva McGonagall."  
  
Dumbledore looked to Carson to see if he would make an objection. Carson was silent, and Dumbledore was almost certain he saw a smirk on his face. He felt nauseated. Carson was supposed to be defending Rachel, and he clearly thought she was guilty.  
  
Malachi continued. "Could Professor Dippet's life have gotten any better? We'll never know - it was snatched away from him before he had the chance! Professor Revueltas saw her opportunity and took it. She saw it again two weeks ago, when she poisoned Quinn Grindelwald. However, she was not going to get away with the second murder. Another faculty member, Professor Jennifer Hensley, saw Revueltas leaving Grindelwald's office, and then went up to ask the headmaster a question. When she arrived there, she found the body."  
  
"Objection," Carson said.  
  
About time, Dumbledore thought to himself.  
  
"It cannot be proven from this that it was my client who murdered Professor Grindelwald," Carson said. "Based on what Mr. Malachi has presented here, how do we know it was not Jennifer Hensley who killed Grindelwald?"  
  
"A vial containing acclobane was found in the possession of Professor Revueltas, as was a blood-covered dagger that matched Professor Dippet's when tested," Malachi said. "I was about to state that when I was interrupted."  
  
"Objection overruled," Bakater said. "Continue, Mr. Malachi."  
  
Dumbledore was starting to get angry. This trial was unfair. All of them thought she was guilty!  
  
Malachi did as he was told. "Professor Hensley alerted the Ministry of Magic, and Noah McCarthy took two dozen of his best Aurors to Hogwarts to search the premises. Revueltas gave them permission to search her chambers, and it was there that they found the dagger. They searched her next, and found the acclobane."  
  
"Evidence could have been planted on the person," Carson pointed out, but not with a lot of feeling.  
  
"Perhaps," Malachi said, "but I don't think this was staged." He then reached into his pocket and pulled something out: a letter. "Professor Grindelwald composed this letter to Tobias Hawkins just hours before his death." He handed the letter to Bakater. "Permission to read this to the court, Your Honor?"  
  
"Permission granted," Bakater said, and handed the letter back to him.  
  
Malachi cleared his throat. "Minister Hawkins, I do not know how much time I have left, so I will be brief. Since the Ministry has been ineffective at finding Armando's killer, I have been searching for the last few months on my own. I was shocked to discover where my search took me: to the last person I ever suspected, someone very dear to my heart - Rachel Revueltas. I don't have enough evidence to make her treacherous acts public yet, but I'm close. I think Rachel suspects that I know, so I will have to hurry to protect the lives of not only myself, but every single student and teacher at Hogwarts. If something should happen to me, let it be known that she is not the woman we thought she was. She is a murderer and a traitor."  
  
He folded the letter up and put it back in his pocket. "I'm finished, Your Honor," he said, and took his seat.  
  
"Indeed," Bakater said. "Well, Mr. Carson, you may present the case for the defense, but I don't know what good it will do."  
  
~~~  
  
By the time the jury had reached a verdict, Dumbledore was tempted to stun every single person in the room and free Rachel by force. The entire trial had been set up against her. There was no need for the jury to meet and decide her fate. It had been decided beforehand. In their eyes, she was guilty before she even set foot inside the courtroom.  
  
"Have you reached a verdict?" Bakater asked as the jurors filed back into the courtroom after ten minutes of discussion.  
  
One jury member nodded. "We have, Your Honor."  
  
"You may publish your findings."  
  
The juror cleared his throat. "On all charges and specifications, we the jury find the defendant, Rachel Revueltas, guilty."  
  
Bakater nodded. "Very well. Professor Revueltas, sentencing will consist of incarceration at the prison of Azkaban for a period of time no shorter than the remainder of your natural life. This court is dismissed."  
  
"No!" Dumbledore shouted as Rachel was led out of the courtroom. They made eye contact, and the desperate, terrified look on her face nearly made his heart break. "I know you're innocent, Rachel!" he called to her. "Somehow, I'll prove it!"  
  
Somehow... 


	15. Somehow

A/N: Okay, before I begin this next chapter, I think I've put off the individual thing long enough. This goes out to everyone who has reviewed chapter ten and above as of posting time. If I missed you, a million apologies.  
  
~~~  
  
Inca - I agree with you about Stalin, and I think that in many ways he was worse than Hitler. I did find it difficult to write him as nice as he seemed. I'm trying to keep things how our characters would have seen things, and after all, Grindelwald seemed like a nice guy, too... Anyway, thanks for bringing that up. That's a great point, and I probably should have said something earlier.  
  
Dot dot dot - Thanks for bringing up another good point. I do have a few comments to make in my defense, though. First of all, this is 1945. Making scandelous comments back then was not as socially acceptable as it is now. Secondly, Delacour is married - and married to a veela at that - and he's hitting on a woman he just met. I think that more than qualifies him as a jerk, especially once you think about the implications of his comment. Dumbledore, Churchill, and Eisenhower were reluctant to tell Minerva what he said because they probably didn't want to piss her off - personally, if a man I'd just met said something like that to me, he wouldn't wake up the following morning... but that's me. Anyway, to each his own, and thanks for reading.  
  
MK - Yeah, they're all pricks, except for Albus, Armando (the poor guy...) and a handful of other random male characters that really haven't played much of a role yet. And the body really was Grindelwald. It will be explained, but not in this chapter. Next one. ^_^  
  
Lemon_Drops - *blushes* Aw, shucks... thanks for reading, and I hope you enjoy the new chapter.  
  
Child-of-the-Dawn - You know, for a while, I thought Quinn was falling for her, too, and I considered making them kiss or something, but as you can see, I decided against it. Glad you liked Eisenhower and Roosevelt. I enjoyed writing them, especially Eisenhower. Thanks for reading.  
  
Isis Malfoy - Yeah, poor Rachel. I can't decide who is the more tragic figure in this story, her or Armando. Wonderfully suspenseful, you say? Thank you. I try. ^_^  
  
insaneflautist - Thank you. Cliffhangers are how I keep people reading my otherwise idiotic stories. ^_^   
  
Xela - See translation in previous chapter. Hey, where are you, by the way? You haven't updated your stuff in a while. I may start having withdrawals soon.  
  
Blank - Yes, Dumbledore defeated Grindelwald, but we're not there yet. ^_^  
  
Moonlight Destiny - Thanks.  
  
Sanguine Quill - Yeah, Riddle's a jerk. So is Grindelwald. His mystery will be unravelled soon.  
  
Weed - Hee hee... I got a lot of comments on the hanging from the ceiling thing. I thought a little comic relief was in order. This story is a lot darker than I originally thought it was going to be.  
  
Gem - Thank you. Yeah, Quinn is an idiot, but he's also an evil twisted genius, and when idiot meets evil twisted genius... I'm working really, really hard on him. Hope you keep reading!  
  
Robin - Yep, something huge is coming... and it's still coming... I thought Minerva conspiring with the students was a little out of character, but people liked it, so... I guess everyone's got to do something unexpected every once in a while. ^_^ Oh, and according to the Harry Potter Lexicon, Dumbledore didn't actually become headmaster until 1971 - don't worry, you'll see how I make that fit. Thanks for all your wonderful reviews!  
  
Lama - Thank you, and I hope you keep reading.  
  
LinZE - Ending's coming soon. Bear with me. ^_^ Thanks for reading.  
  
And last, but CERTAINLY not least...  
  
Aeryn Alexander - There's a quote by Winston Churchill about prepositions? Nice! Send that to me if you find it! Thanks for all your reviews. Yeah, Quinn is up to something. I've worked hard on him, and I'm glad you think he's a complex character. Glad you liked the ball. I had fun writing that chapter, especially the Humphrey Bogart cameo. (I saw the opportunity and had to take it! ^_^) Eisenhower and Delacour were fun, too. Okay, moving on to your next review. The Quinn/Rachel hug was just slightly more than platonic; I think he or she or both of them might have had a thing for the other at some point, but seeing as he's evil and ends up destroying her life... yeah. Anyway, thanks for reading. I'm honored to have your reviews. Oh, and there will be a character appearance in the next chapter that I think will make you happy. ^_^  
  
And now... chapter fifteen. It won't be as long as some of the other chapters because for the most part, it's a transition between Grindelwald's "death" (oh, come on, you all know he's not really dead) and Rachel's imprisonment to the next major part of the story. Oh, and I bet you can guess which line of Dumbledore's I wrote while watching 'Hamlet'! Anyway, on with the show.  
  
~~~  
  
CHAPTER FIFTEEN: SOMEHOW  
  
~~~  
  
Albus Dumbledore's feet felt like they were made of bricks as he trudged up the stairs to the entrance hall after returning to Hogwarts after the trial late that night. Even heavier than his feet, though, was his heart. Guilty. Rachel Revueltas, the sweet, loyal, unassuming head of Ravenclaw house and deputy headmistress of Hogwarts was now branded as a bloodthirsty murderer. As far as the rest of the world was concerned, she poisoned Quinn Grindelwald and made mincemeat of Armando Dippet. He still had no idea how, but deep down inside, he knew she was innocent. But how could he prove it?  
  
His morale lifted slightly when he saw Minerva McGonagall and Warrick Larios waiting for him at the top of the stairs, but sank again when he realized that he would have to tell them what happened. They seemed to have figured it out already, though. "Guilty?" Larios asked, asking more for confirmation of his thoughts than a question.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "Guilty."  
  
Larios closed his eyes, gritted his teeth, and slowly nodded his head.  
  
"What happens now?" asked Minerva.  
  
"She's going to Azkaban," Dumbledore answered, "for life."  
  
Minerva peered closely at him and said, "You still believe she's innocent, don't you?" She didn't want to accept the idea that Rachel was a murderer, but Minerva had always been one to act on logic and not instinct, and logic pointed its finger at Rachel.  
  
Dumbledore sighed, rubbed his eyes, and shook his head. "I don't know what to think anymore. Hogwarts has not seen such dark times since the days from which circumstances inspired its founding. Two are slain by the hand of one, and yet I cannot help but wonder if an innocent is to be condemned to a fate worse than death for murder and treachery that were not hers."  
  
Larios opened his eyes. "Did you just now come up with that, or did you read it somewhere?""It was me."  
  
"Ever thought about being a poet?"  
  
"Such thoughts have never crossed my mind." Just then, he spotted something out of the corner of his eye, and turned his head to look. It was Natalie Cypher, half walking, half stumbling toward them. Tears were streaming down her face, and she was clutching a letter in her hand. "Natalie," Dumbledore said as she came closer, "what's wrong?"  
  
Natalie looked even worse up close. Her hair was matted and stuck to her face where tears had left their wet trails on her skin. Her eyes were red from crying, and her entire body was trembling. "M-m-m-y b-brother," she choked, and her shaking hand held the letter out to him. "H-h-e's - he's..." She was unable to finish the thought, and covered her face with her hands.  
  
Dumbledore took the letter, and Minerva drew Natalie into a comforting embrace. Natalie reacted much more strongly than Minerva expected, and held on to her so tightly that the younger woman could barely breathe.  
  
"Is he... dead?" Larios asked.  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "No. According to this, he was in France after returning from Venezuela just after the first of the year, and was captured by Nazis in a raid. He's been taken to a prison camp." The letter was from Natalie's parents, who had received the word from one of Benjamin's friends who had escaped the raid. According to them, the friend followed the Nazis and found out where they were taking him.  
  
"They'll kill him!" Natalie cried. "As soon as they find out he's a British spy, they'll shoot his head off!"  
  
Dumbledore wished there was something they could do, but even if there was, he didn't see any way to do it. Benjamin Cypher was a Muggle invovled in a Muggle war, and being captured by the enemy was a painful, but true part of war. The wizards were trying to stay out of it, and they could not afford to get involved for the sake of one life. Besides, they already had a life to save - Rachel's. Until they caught the real murderer, Rachel could not be proven innocent.  
  
"Natalie," Dumbledore said, "I am sorry. I truly am."  
  
"I have to help him! He'll die there if they find out who he is, or what I am..."  
  
He hadn't even thought of that. She had a point with that one. If the Nazis knew they were holding a prisoner whose sister was a witch, that would all but clear a path for them to attack the wizarding world. But they had to be realistic. The odds that they would find out were slim to none, but there was still that chance, that one in a million...  
  
"There's still hope, Natalie," Minerva assured her distraught friend. "They might not find out, and they might not kill him, either. You make it seem like he's already dead."  
  
"He's as good as dead there, Minerva," Natalie sobbed. "What am I going to do? I can't just stand around and wait for another letter telling me that he's dead! I can't! I won't!"  
  
She broke free of Minerva's hold and began running toward the stairs leading down to the main entrance, but didn't get very far. Natalie had forgotten about Minerva's cat-like reflexes, and Minerva caught her again almost as soon as she lost her grip. "You can't go, Natalie!" Minerva said. "It's too dangerous! You can't risk your life as well!"  
  
Almost all of Natalie's strength had left her, and she sank to her knees. Minerva knelt down next to her, and hugged her tightly as Natalie cried her eyes out. She looked at Dumbledore and Larios and said, "I'll watch her. You two get some rest, especially you, Albus."  
  
"Let me know when she calms down," Dumbledore said.  
  
Minerva nodded. "I will."  
  
~~~  
  
It was almost an hour before Natalie fell into an exhausted sleep. After helping her to bed, Minerva headed over to Dumbledore's chambers to check in as he asked. She expected him to be asleep, which he was not. He was sitting in a chair by the window with a dictionary in hand. "What word are you on now?" she asked after he told her to come in.  
  
"Galaxy: any of many independent systems of stars, gas, dust, etc., held together by gravitational attraction," he answered. He set the dictionary down and walked over to her. "How's Natalie?"  
  
Minerva sighed. "She's been better."  
  
"I think we all have."  
  
That was true. Life had been much better for all of them. Two people murdered at the hands of someone you trusted was enough to destroy anyone's morale, and seeing a close friend suffer with not knowing if she would ever see her brother again... yes, life was definitely at a low point.  
  
Dumbledore stroked her cheek with his hand and said, "How are you feeling?"  
  
She kissed the tips of his fingers as they ran over her lips. "Confused," she answered, "and... and a little scared." That was an understatement. She was terrified. If Dumbledore was right, and Rachel was not the killer, then that meant the real one was still out there, and if the current pattern continued, he would be the next one to die or be framed for murder. Either way, his life was in danger.  
  
"Everything will be all right," he assured her. "I don't know at this point, but I promise, these crimes will not go unavenged. I know Rachel is innocent, and somehow, I'll prove it."  
  
"I will help you in any way that I can."  
  
They hugged each other, and Minerva said, "I wish there was something we could do for Natalie. It breaks my heart to see her like this."  
  
"I will speak to Prime Minister Churchill," Dumbledore said. "Perhaps he could give us some options."  
  
"Thank you. I'm sure Natalie will be grateful."  
  
"You're trembling."  
  
"No, I'm not," she insisted, even though she was.  
  
"Yes, you are. What are you not telling me?"  
  
What was the use in denying it? He could obviously see right through her. "I'm worried about you," she said. "If you're right about Rachel, then the real killer is still on the loose. At this rate, you're the next one to die."  
  
How could he respond to that one? He could always say that he wasn't going to die, but that was what Quinn Grindelwald said, and look what happened to him. So instead, he said, "I will do my best to stay alive."  
  
"You had better," she said, and kissed him on the cheek. "And while you're at it, get some rest. It's been a long day."  
  
"We've had a lot of those lately," Dumbledore commented as he walked her to the door.  
  
Minerva nodded. "Indeed. Good night, Albus."  
  
"Good night, Minerva," he returned, and after one last kiss, they parted ways.  
  
~~~  
  
Far away from Hogwarts, a thunderstorm was raging over forgotten corner of the French countryside. There wasn't a single sign of human activity for miles in any direction, save for a muddy rode that led up to the iron gates of a prison camp standing on a small hill. At first glance, the prison camp would appear to be deserted, but one's eyes were good enough to see through the storm, one could discern an artificial light trying desperately to cast its beam on the courtyard below.  
  
Standing in the middle of the courtyard was a young man of perhaps twenty-five years. His face would have been handsome had it not been covered with cuts, bruises, blood, and mud, and he was dressed in a tattered, muddy robe. His feet were bare, and he shivered as he stood in the freezing mud as water from the sky came pouring down and thunder roared overhead. His name was Benjamin Cypher, and he was not just a prisoner of war - he was bait.  
  
Two uniformed soldiers holding high-powered weapons stood on either side of Ben to make sure he wasn't going to try to escape. He'd escaped once before, about two weeks ago, but hadn't gotten very far, and since that incident, he had at least two armed guards watching him every second of the day. Had he not been so valuable to them, he would have been dead long ago. Although none of them showed any sign of fear on the outside, all three were terrified, and the guards even more so than Ben. A visitor was scheduled to arrive any minute, a man who possessed power too great and terrible to imagine, and rumor had it he was going to use a young British spy by the name of Ben Cypher to turn the tables in this war.  
  
The creaking sound of a halfway rusted iron gate being pushed open was barely heard over the roar of the storm, but Ben heard it. He had been staring at his feet, but at the sound of the gate, lifted his head to see who was coming. A figure wearing a long black cloak was walking toward them. Ben assumed it was a man from the height. His footsteps made soft squishing sounds in the mud. When he reached the other three men, he looked at the guards and said, "Leave us."  
  
"But-" one of the guards protested.  
  
"I said," the man said, raising the volume of his voice, "leave us."  
  
The guards did as they were told without further protest and sought shelter under a canopy on the other side of the courtyard.  
  
"Who are you?" Ben asked.  
  
He removed his hood. Rain soon made his dark blonde hair look nearly brown, and his hazel eyes were cold and piercing, like the steel blade of a dagger. "You don't know me," he hissed, "but I know you. I know what you are and what your sister is."  
  
Ben's heart jumped. He clenched his fists and said, "If you lay a finger on Natalie, I swear I will-"  
  
"You will do nothing, Benjamin Cypher," the man interrupted. "There is nothing you can do to save her or yourself. Any attempt would be futile."  
  
"Then why don't you kill me now?" Ben asked, almost daringly.  
  
The man lifted his arm and struck Ben across the face. He fell to the ground, and got a mouthful of mud in the process. "Because you're no use to me dead. And if your noble sister decides not to come for you, you will be eliminated just the same. Enjoy the time you have left. Any way you look at it, you'll be dead within a week." He waved the guards over, and then turned around and began walking out the way he came in.  
  
The guards jerked Ben to his feet and took him to his cell, a small wooden pen with an iron gate that did little to protect him from the elements. One opened the gate, and the other shoved him inside. He was unable to keep his balance, and fell to the muddy ground. He coughed twice, sending mud and blood out his mouth both times. Who was this man? How did he know who he was? What did he want with Natalie?  
  
Natalie... his sister's name ran through his mind over and over. Natalie had powers he didn't understand and would never have. Would she stand a chance against these people? Would she know it was a trap? Somehow, he had to reach her...  
  
"Natalie..." he said in a hoarse whisper, "stay away... It's a trap, Natalie... it's a trap..."  
  
~~~  
  
Hundreds of miles away, Natalie Cypher awoke with a start. The sun was just beginning to slip over the eastern horizon, signalling the coming of day. She was thankful for that. She wouldn't have been able to go back to sleep after the images that had just run through her mind, and nobody else in the castle would have, either.  
  
She got out of her bed and quickly changed into her day robes. Once she was dressed, she left her chambers and half walked, half ran in the direction of the headmaster's office. Natalie was not seeking counsel. She was going to give Dumbledore an ultimatum, and one that he would most likely advise against, but she didn't care. She knew what she had to do, and nothing was going to stop her.  
  
On her way to Dumbledore's office, Natalie passed Minerva. Both women were equally surprised to see the other awake at such an early hour. "Is everything all right?" Minerva asked.  
  
Natalie shook her head. "I need to see Professor Dumbledore. It's an emergency."  
  
"I don't think he's awake yet," Minerva said.  
  
"No, he's awake," came a voice from behind, "and he's standing right here."  
  
The two women turned around and saw Dumbledore emerging from around a corner. Natalie cleared her throat and looked at the headmaster. "I saw my brother," she said. "He's in pain, and they're going to kill him soon. It comes to this. I am going after him."  
  
"Natalie, you must understand that we won't-" Dumbledore began.  
  
"I am going to do this with or without your consent, Albus," Natalie interrupted. "Ben needs me, and I am going to help him."  
  
"You didn't let me finish." A twinkle appeared in Dumbledore's eye. Minerva caught the look, and a feeling that consisted of an equal combination of admiration and foreboding washed over her. They made eye contact for a moment, and he nodded. He then turned his eyes back to Natalie and continued. "What I was going to say is we won't let you do this alone." 


	16. The Rescue

A/N: Yay, an update, FINALLY! Writer's block. Forgive me. Fun chapter. Long chapter. Guest star is Alastor Moody (Aeryn, this is for you!). But before we get on with the long-awaited (ha) Chapter Sixteen of our epic...   
  
Lemon_Drops: Thank you for the lovely review, and I did do some updating, but not as much as I should have. *big innocent smile*  
MK: Yes and yes. How Grindelwald "died" will be explained in the final showdown. *dramatic chord* And don't worry, Grindelwald will get what's coming to him.  
Aeryn Alexander: Natalie witch, Ben Muggle. Natalie's a Muggle-born witch. (like Lily and Petunia Evans) Road trip? Not quite. And the Churchill quote was great. Hope you enjoy the new chapter!  
Robin: Thanks. I'm working hard on Grindelwald. Thank you for the review!  
insaneflautist: *blushes* Aw, shucks... thanks!  
Madame Plot Bunnie: You know, I didn't even think of that, but now that you mention it... *laughs* Sure.  
Minerva of Tortall: *cowers* I'm sorry! :-D Here's the update. Hope you like it, and thanks for reading!  
Anndy Malfoy: I wrote more (finally) ^_^ Thanks for reading.  
~~~  
  
CHAPTER SIXTEEN: THE RESCUE  
  
~~~  
  
Two days later, five figures knelt behind a row of bushes in the French countryside and surveyed the sight before them. It was just past sunset, and on a hill about an eighth of a mile away from their hiding place stood a prison camp backdropped against the western horizon. It wasn't just any prison camp, though; it was the prison camp that held Benjamin Cypher captive, and as soon as they had the cover of darkness and if all went according to plan, Ben wasn't the only prisoner their enemy would be losing.  
  
"I can't believe I let you talk me into this."  
  
Minerva McGonagall groaned, rolled her eyes, and looked at her friend. "We've been through this, Alastor," she said. "No one made you come. I said I would like you to come, but I never told you that not coming wasn't an option."  
  
Alastor Moody folded his arms across his chest and said, "I know, and I should have listened to that little voice inside my head that told me not to come."  
  
"Ssh," Warrick Larios said, holding his finger to his lips.   
  
The other two members of their party, Albus Dumbledore and Natalie Cypher, were busy assessing the situation. "We can't just walk up there," Natalie said. "It's too open. They'd see us long before we get there."  
  
"I guess our only other option is Apparition," Dumbledore said. "Do you all feel comfortable with Apparating from here to there?"  
  
Natalie shook her head sadly. "I'm not very good at Apparition," she confessed. "I could probably do it, but..."  
  
"It's not worth the risk," said Larios. "We'll think of another way."  
  
"Shouldn't we send one person over to get a closer look before we all go?" asked Moody.  
  
Natalie pointed to one of the towers. "We could, but we'd have to figure out a way to get around the guards."  
  
Moody glanced at Minerva for a moment, then looked at the prison camp. "Well, I'm sure Cat Woman would have no problem getting over there. Cats aren't very suspicious, are they?"  
  
"Thank you, Alastor," Minerva said. Her voice had a sarcastic tone to it. "That's quite touching. I don't think anyone has ever called me Cat Woman before."  
  
Moody smiled at her. "Maybe not to your face." Moody was the type of man that could joke around with his friends, but when the time came to be serious, he could switch into the other mood so completely that one would think there wasn't any sense of humor in him at all.  
  
Larios chuckled. "I think we need to seperate you two."  
  
Even Natalie was smiling by this time. "Cat Woman... that sounds like a superhero."  
  
"Quick, someone patent Cat Woman," Moody said. "I want a Knut every time someone says it." He gave Minerva his full attention, smiled, and winked. "I always knew you were a superhero, Min."  
  
"Only on Tuesdays," Minerva said dryly. "All right. I'll be the hot shot Animagus and do some reconnaissance. Natalie, what does your brother look like?"  
  
"Like me, only male," she answered. "He's twenty-five, and he's about four inches taller than me. He has an appendectomy scar on his stomach, but I don't think that will help you at all."  
  
"I'll see what I can do. Give me twenty minutes." She and Dumbledore made eye contact for a moment, and then she transformed into her feline alter ego and began making her way toward the prison camp.  
  
"Hey, Albus?" Larios asked as he, Dumbledore, Moody, and Natalie watched Minerva maneuver through the large field before them.  
  
"Yes, Warrick?" Dumbledore said.  
  
"What day is it?"  
  
A small smile crossed Dumbledore's face. "Tuesday."  
  
~~~  
  
As Minerva drew closer to the prison camp, she began looking for a way to get in. The bars on the front gate were spaced just far enough apart for a cat to squeeze through, so she elected to go that way. She mentally thanked herself for going through all the trials and tribulations of becoming an Animagus. The ability was far more useful than she ever thought it would be back when she was a student who was losing sleep due to the extra workload she had to take on when she decided she was going to become a member of the select few.  
  
Minerva squeezed through the bars of the front gate, and once inside, her keen feline vision began taking in the surroundings. The gate led into a large square courtyard of mud, and cells were set up along three of the four walls, the exclusion being the one she had just entered through. Most of them were empty, but she spotted a few prisoners of war here and there. They were all filthy and looked fatigued and malnourished as well. She wondered if Benjamin Cypher was in one of those cells.  
  
Staying low to the ground, she crept toward the wall on her left to begin her search. All the cells on that wall were empty. On the wall opposite the entrance, two cells were occupied with one man each, and neither one bore any resemblance to Natalie. On the third wall, though, she got lucky. In the fourth occupied cell she looked in to sat a young man with light brown hair and eyes and a face that looked something like a masculine version of Natalie's underneath all the mud, cuts, and bruises. She looked up and memorized the number written on the wooden beam over the cell: thirty-seven. Knowing which cell Ben was in wasn't enough for her, though; there were still other things that needed to be done.  
  
Repeating thirty-seven over and over in her head, Minerva crept toward what she guessed to be the camp's administrative building. If she could get in there and possibly find a way to knock out surveillance, their job would be a lot easier.  
  
She spotted a pair of guards walking toward the building and started following them. If they opened the door, she could get inside. She could always transform back into human form, but if someone saw her, then the whole operation would be compromised. Cats weren't very suspicious, but a cat transforming into a woman or vice versa was extremely suspicious to someone who wasn't a wizard.  
  
Her lucky streak continued. The guards opened the door, and she managed to squeeze inside just before it shut. She followed them, not knowing what else to do, and listened in on their conversation. The only language she knew very well besides English was Arabic (from being stationed in Egypt for a while when she first became an Auror), but she understood bits and pieces of German. From what she could gather, the two guards were irritated with one of their superiors and wished he would get on with whatever he was planning. For a moment, Minerva wondered if it had something to do with Benjamin Cypher, but realized that wasn't possible. Ben was a British spy, but if they knew that, they would have already killed him, and there was just no way they could know that his sister was a witch, and even if they did, what was it to them?  
  
A few feet ahead of them, the hallway intersected another one. One guard went to the left, and the other went to the right. Minerva thought fast, and decided to follow the one on the left. They rounded a few corners here and there, but the hall didn't seem to be leading anywhere interesting. The guard soon reached a door, and began fumbling in his pockets for the key to unlock it. Minerva read the label above the door, and felt a glow of satisfaction as she translated it: Power.  
  
However, after that, her luck came to an end. The guard pulled a key out of his pocket, but instead of sticking it into the door, he happened to glance over his shoulder, and in doing so, spotted her. Minerva's heart sank. Damn it! she thought to herself. Damn it, damn it, damn it!  
  
The guard chuckled and said something that she translated into "What are you doing here?" He then knelt down and tried to pet her, but she hissed and scratched his hand. He pulled his hand away and began sucking on the skin that she had scratched. She hoped she drew blood. "Stupid cat," the guard mumbled, and rose to his feet. "Get out of here."  
  
He kicked at her, but she backed away and hissed again. He reached into his pockets again, probably to find something to throw at her, and Minerva saw her opportunity. She just hoped she remembered everything Moody taught her about how to throw a punch.  
  
While the guard's attention was diverted, Minerva changed back into human form. The guard looked at her and would have screamed, had her fist not made contact with his face before any sound could be emitted. He fell to the floor, and appeared to be unconscious. Minerva rubbed her knuckles. The punch was slightly off, but it got the job done. Now, to take care of that security room.  
  
In his fall, the guard had dropped the key he took from his pocket, and she saw it lying on the floor a few feet away from him. She bent down, picked it up, and tried to stick it in the keyhole. As luck would have it, it didn't fit. She let out an exasperated sigh, threw the key down next to the unconscious guard, and pulled out her wand. "Alohomora."  
  
She heard the soft click of a lock disengaging, and then opened the door.  
  
~~~  
  
In the meantime, the others were beginning to grow restless. "Where is she?" Dumbledore asked. "Shouldn't she have been back by now? What if something's happened to her?"  
  
"Calm down, Professor," Moody said calmly. "I'm sure she's fine. She's Minerva. She doesn't know how to be reckless, no matter how often I tried to teach her."  
  
"Spoken like a true Slytherin," Larios commented.  
  
Moody smiled innocently. "What can I say? Of course, you're a Ravenclaw, so I wouldn't expect you to understand..."  
  
"Funny, Moody," Larios replied. "Very funny." Larios had taken over as head of Ravenclaw, his old house, after the death of Quinn Grindelwald and the imprisonment of Rachel Revueltas.  
  
Dumbledore sighed and looked at the lights of the prison camp. "I hope you're right, Alastor," he said, and then added, "About the idea that Minerva doesn't know how to be reckless."  
  
Moody nodded. "Yeah, I hope I am, too."  
  
At that moment, the entire prison camp went dark.  
  
Natalie almost jumped. "Did you see that?" she cried. "All the power over there just went out!"  
  
"I know," came a voice from behind. It was Minerva, who had just appeared, presumably by Apparition. "I found the power generators and put them out of commission. While they all run around trying to fix the power, we get in there and rescue Ben." She then began rubbing her eyes and blinking rapidly.  
  
Dumbledore, fearing that she had been exposed to tear gas or some other dreadful noxious fumes, asked if she was all right. She gave him a reassuring smile. "I'm fine," she said. "It's just dark."  
  
Moody glanced up at the night sky overhead. "Yes, Minerva, it's night," he said. "My, my, aren't we observant?"  
  
"Yes, Alastor, we are very observant, especially considering that the last time I was outside, I was a cat."  
  
Moody held up his hands in defense. "I surrender."  
  
"You can't surrender," said Larios. "We haven't even been captured yet."  
  
"Warrick," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Yes?" Larios returned.  
  
"A little optimism, please."  
  
"Oh, it's all right," said Moody. "I'm sure Professor Larios just forgot for a moment that we're about to walk into a Nazi prison camp and rescue a British spy."  
  
"Then let's get on with it," said Minerva. "I don't know what I did to those generators or how long it will take them to fix them. We don't know how much time we have."  
  
Natalie spoke next. "Then let's go."  
  
~~~  
  
They moved swiftly across the field toward the prison camp, not knowing how much time they had before their adversaries got the power working again. "Natalie, I think your brother's in cell thirty-seven," Minerva told the other woman as they approached their destination. "Of course, it's not like it really matters, but I thought you should know."  
  
"How many cells are occupied?" asked Moody.  
  
"Seven," Minerva answered. "There's one prisoner in each cell. There's two in cells on the west wall and five on the north. Ben's in the fourth one on the north side."  
  
"Natalie, Minerva, you two get the prisoners out," Dumbledore instructed. "Warrick and I will set up the explosives." It took a while for Dumbledore to persuade Winston Churchill to let them rescue Ben, but once that was accomplished, Churchill provided them with enough explosives to demolish the small, isolated camp. Currently, they were transfigured into a pocketwatch, which Larios had in his pocket. "And Alastor, you create a distraction, preferably one that will get as many soldiers as possible out of here. I want as few fatalities as possible. This is not our war."  
  
The others nodded in acknowledgement. "What should I do?" Moody inquired.  
  
"Whatever you feel will work," Dumbledore answered. "Set something on fire if you like." Then he winked.  
  
A smile played at the corners of his mouth. "You got it."  
  
Minerva arched an eyebrow. "Are you going to do what I think you're going to do?"  
  
Moody nodded. "If you're thinking what I think you're thinking, then yes."  
  
"What?" asked Natalie.  
  
Moody opened his mouth to speak, but Minerva cut him off. "You'll see," she said, "and when you do, remember to ask me about it sometime."  
  
They reached the gate, and after making sure they wouldn't be seen, slipped it open enough for them to squeeze inside, one by one. Dumbledore and Larios went inside the main building, Minerva and Natalie made their way toward the cells, and Moody took off by himself. None of the others knew where he was going, and frankly, they didn't really care. As long as the job done, it was all right, and knowing Moody, it certainly would.  
  
A quick stunning charm took care of the lone guard in the courtyard. While Minerva revived him, hit him with a memory charm, and made up a new memory, then sent him on his way to take care of an appointment in Paris he was late for, Natalie used the Alohomora charm to unlock cell thirty-seven. "Ben?" she called softly. "Are you here?"  
  
Benjamin Cypher couldn't believe his eyes. "Natalie?"  
  
She nodded, and the two embraced tightly. Both were in tears. "What are you doing here?" Ben asked. "How did you know?"  
  
"It's a long story," Natalie replied. "We'll have plenty of time to explain once we get everyone out."  
  
"You shouldn't have come here," said Ben. "Whoever's in charge around here knows who you are, and I was bait to lure you here. You have to get out now!"  
  
"What are you talking about?" Natalie asked.  
  
"There's no time," Minerva said. "Come on, we've got to get the others out."  
  
They set to work freeing the other prisoners. The power still had not returned, and there was no sign of Moody or his distraction. It didn't take long to get the other six out of their cells, and once they were all out, Minerva gave them instructions. They were to follow Natalie out of the prison camp and then wait at the designated location until further notice. Minerva was to meet Dumbledore and Larios and help them finish with their part of the job.  
  
They crept back toward the entrance, staying in the shadows. Suddenly, they heard screaming, and it was all they could do to keep from screaming themselves when they saw what it was. Something was running toward them, waving his arms and screaming as if all Hell had broken loose. Behind him were what looked like about two dozen soldiers, chasing him and waving around their weapons.  
  
It was Moody, and he was on fire.  
  
Natalie's eyes grew wide. "Minerva, is that what you were talking about?"  
  
Minerva nodded. "Yes, Natalie, that is what I was talking about. I don't have time to explain. It looks like Alastor has gotten the soldiers out of here, and that's what matters. Now it's your turn. We'll see you back at the rendezvous point."  
  
~~~  
  
"That's the last charge," Larios said as he finished tying two fuses together. "Got the detonator?"  
  
Dumbledore tapped the small metal object in his hand. "Right here."  
  
"Great. Let's get out of here and blow this place."  
  
"Wait," said Dumbledore. "We haven't found Minerva yet."  
  
"I'm right here," came a voice from behind. The men turned around, and saw Minerva jogging toward them. "Natalie got the prisoners out, and there's twenty or so soldiers following Alastor. They should be out by now."  
  
A smile flickered across Larios's face. "I'm sure they were quite surprised when they saw him."  
  
"Well, it's not every day that you see a man running around on fire," Minerva replied. "The others should be a safe distance away by now. Let's get going."  
  
Apparition got them back to their starting point, where Natalie and the seven freed prisoners were waiting. Moody hadn't arrived yet. One of the prisoners demanded an explanation. "Of course," Larios calmly said. He pointed his wand at them. Their memories of this incident, even Ben's, had to be erased. Unlike the others, though, he knew it was coming. "Obliviate."  
  
All of their expressions went blank.  
  
"The prison camp caught fire," Larios told them. "You broke out of your cells and got out just in time. You're all going home now."  
  
They blinked.  
  
Larios leaned toward Dumbledore. "Blow it," he muttered.  
  
"Not yet," Dumbledore said. "We don't have Moody yet."  
  
Just then, Moody appeared next to Natalie. "I'm here. Let's get this over with." He and Minerva instantly made eye contact, and before she could speak, he said, "Yes, Minerva, I know, ended a sentence with a preposition, please forgive me."  
  
Minerva kept silent.  
  
Dumbledore pulled out the detonator and depressed the small button in the center. A second later, they had to shield their eyes from the bright light of the blast as the prison camp went up in flames. When the blast faded, Dumbledore looked at the detonator for a moment, then slipped it into his pocket. "Let's go home." They were getting home the same way they came in, by an airplane loaned to them by the British government. It was located on a large field that served as a runway about five miles away from the prison camp. They had to walk to there and hope they wouldn't be spotted.  
  
Natalie looked at Moody. "You - you're not on fire anymore! You don't even look like you were on fire!"  
  
Moody smiled innocently.  
  
Natalie turned to Minerva. "You told me to ask. I'm asking."  
  
"Well, we've got five miles," Minerva said with a sigh.  
  
Dumbledore started to chuckle. Larios, too, was grinning.  
  
Minerva shot her two companions a look of warning, but it had no effect on them. "Just tell her, Minerva," Larios said.  
  
"It was in our fifth year," Minerva said. "It was just another normal April day, and classes had just gotten over. Suddenly, we hear screaming, and down the hall comes Alastor Moody - a prefect, I might add - on fire. We were all certain he was dying when he stopped screaming and began laughing. And I don't care what you think, Alastor, it wasn't funny."  
  
"Yes, it was!" he insisted. "You should have seen your face!"  
  
"He should have been expelled for that stupid prank," Minerva said, "but he wasn't, and Professor Grindelwald was so impressed with his skill with flame-freezing charms that he awarded Slytherin house twenty points! Twenty points! For lighting himself on fire and running through the school, screaming like a madman!"  
  
Natalie laughed. "Sorry, Minerva. It IS funny."  
  
"Yes, and now I'm going to have to do another memory charm," Larios said, nodding his head in the direction of the seven Muggles.  
  
They stopped so the memory charm could be performed. While Larios made up another memory for the prisoners and Moody chatted with Natalie, Dumbledore and Minerva walked several feet away in hopes of getting a few seconds alone. "Well, it's over," Dumbledore said, gazing at the burning camp.  
  
"For us," Minerva replied. She glanced toward the Muggles and said, "Not for them." She rested her head on his shoulder, and he slipped his arm around her waist. "At least we saved Natalie's brother, but..."  
  
"But what?"  
  
She sighed softly. "He said something that bothered me; that it was a trap and he was bait to lure us there. I don't know if he meant Natalie or all of us, but that's what he said: it was a trap."  
  
Dumbledore nodded toward the giant bonfire in the distance. "I think we win this battle, Minerva." Suddenly, he spotted something. It was a vehicle, a truck, driving away from the camp. There were two people inside, a driver and a passenger. "Do you see that?" he asked.  
  
"Yes, I do," she said. "What's so special about it?"  
  
He didn't answer. His mind was frozen with shock. Even from this distance, he could see the face of the passenger clearly in the glow of the inferno. At first, he didn't believe it. It wasn't possible. And yet, there he was, sitting in the passenger seat of the truck driving away from the camp. His eyes were not deceiving him, and neither was the sudden burst of realization that hit him when he put all the pieces in this mysterious puzzle together. Finally, everything made sense. He knew who it was.  
  
Quinn Grindelwald. 


	17. The Enemy Lives

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN: THE ENEMY LIVES   
  
~~~  
  
Alive. Quinn Grindelwald was alive.  
  
Albus Dumbledore was in a state of shock during the entire trip back to England. He wouldn't speak to anyone, not even Minerva. They hadn't told Larios, Moody, or Natalie about Grindelwald yet, so the three of them had no idea what had Dumbledore so upset. Eventually, they gave up on trying to talk to him and went about other business. Natalie tended to Ben and the other Muggles, and Larios and Moody discussed random things pertaining to the Ministry of Magic. Minerva tried to get Dumbledore to come around, but not even she could get him to react to anything. Like the others, she soon decided to leave him alone, too.  
  
As Minerva walked through the airplane to join Moody and Larios, she contemplated whether or not to tell them about Grindelwald. She wondered if that's what Ben Cypher was talking about when he told her and Natalie that they were walking into a trap. Grindelwald must have been the one Ben said was "in charge around here". That explained a lot; from how Grindelwald knew that Natalie was Ben's sister to how he used him to lure them there. But why? Why was he doing this? How could Grindelwald even be alive? He had been confirmed dead by the Ministry of Magic, and there was enough acclobane in his system to kill him ten times over. Something didn't make sense. And if Grindelwald was alive, then Rachel Revueltas certainly didn't kill him, which meant she probably didn't kill Armando Dippet, either. What did Grindelwald have against Rachel, or any of them for that matter? Had he been deceiving them all this time?  
  
"Hi, Minerva," Moody said when he saw her enter their section of the plane. "How's Professor Dumbledore doing?"  
  
Minerva sighed and glanced out the window for a moment before turning her gaze back to Moody and Larios. "Not good," she answered. "He's not talking. He's not even moving. All he does is stare straight ahead with a worried look on his face and blink every once in a while."  
  
"You two saw something strange in France," Larios said. "Not just anything could get Albus Dumbledore in this sort of mood. What was it?"  
  
She sighed again and figured that now was as good a time to tell them as any. "Grindelwald's alive."  
  
For almost a full minute, Moody and Larios were speechless. Finally, Moody choked, "That's... that's impossible. I checked the body myself. He's dead."  
  
Minerva shook her head. "No, Alastor. He's alive. We saw him."  
  
Alastor folded his arms across his chest. "You're imagining things, Minerva. Quinn Grindelwald is dead."  
  
"I know what I saw, Alastor. Do you think anything else would have Albus as upset as he is?"  
  
"Minerva, we must be realistic," said Larios. "Grindelwald is dead. People don't come back from the dead, and unless what you saw was a ghost-"  
  
"It wasn't a ghost!" Minerva interrupted. "It was a real, live, flesh-and-blood Grindelwald! I don't know how or why he's alive, but I'm beginning to think that Albus is right about Rachel's innocence."  
  
"What are you suggesting?" Larios asked. "That Grindelwald killed Dippet and faked his own death to pin everything on Rachel?"  
  
Minerva paused for a moment to reflect on everything that had happened since her arrival at Hogwarts as a teacher. "Not initially," she said. "I remember him telling me on several occasions when I was involved with Armando that Albus was in love with me. It was almost like he was trying to turn the two of them against each other. Then, when Armando was murdered, who was the prime suspect? Albus."  
  
"But the murder weapon was found in Rachel's possession," said Larios.  
  
"It could have been planted," Minerva said.  
  
"It was covered with Dippet's blood and Revueltas's fingertips," Moody pointed out.  
  
"It was a lamp!" Minerva said. "She probably touched it! Grindelwald is alive, and he set up Rachel to take the hit for him."  
  
"What about the acclobane?" Moody asked. "Explain that."  
  
She didn't have a response to that one. That was the only part of this puzzle that didn't make sense. Everything up until there could be explained. "I don't know," she admitted. "All I know is that somehow, Grindelwald is alive, and as long as he's alive, he's dangerous. Someone is going to die, and I have a feeling that I know who it is."  
  
Moody and Larios looked at each other and nodded. They knew as well as she did that if the real killer hadn't been caught and he continued on his current streak, the next one to be decapitated, disembowled, poisoned, or fall victim to some other brutal form of death was Albus Dumbledore. "Should we get some Aurors to patrol the school?" Moody suggested.  
  
"That didn't work with Armando or anyone else," Minerva said. "Nothing personal, Alastor, but I don't think Aurors would make any difference."  
  
"What if it was me?" he asked. "If McCarthy won't let me go, I'll quit. I will not let another person die who I could have saved if given the opportunity."  
  
She shook her head. "No. Grindelwald's not afraid of you. He won't hesitate to take you out as well."  
  
"Did Grindelwald see you?" asked Larios.  
  
"I don't think so, but I think he might have known we were coming."  
  
Moody cringed. "Oh, shit."  
  
"What?" Minerva and Larios asked in unison.  
  
"I ran through that place on fire," Moody said. "Do you honestly think that wouldn't be a dead giveaway? If Grindelwald's alive, like you say he is, he'll know. He thought that prank was good." He sighed and put his hand on Larios's shoulder. "Just kill me now. Throw me out the hatch or something."  
  
"Shut up, Alastor," Minerva said. "You had no way of knowing, and it got all those men out before we blew the place. We're going to have to be extra careful."  
  
"What about Albus?" Larios said. "He's not going to be able to think a coherent thought until Grindelwald's head is mounted on his wall."  
  
She didn't respond. She knew Larios spoke the truth. If Grindelwald was alive, Dumbledore was not going to rest until the man they all thought was dead became so.  
  
~~~  
  
They landed in London about an hour later, and the freed prisoners of war were taken to a hospital. Moody went home, and the rest of them went to the Ministry of Magic and used the fireplace in Tobias Hawkins's office to get back to Hogwarts. Not a word was mentioned about the possibility of Grindelwald being alive, and Minerva made Moody promise not to say anything to McCarthy or anyone else at the Ministry. Hawkins already thought they were crazy, so they saw no need to further that notion until there was no doubt that Grindelwald was alive in all of their minds. Dumbledore and Minerva, though, required no convincing. They knew what they saw. He was alive, but until they could prove it, they were at an impasse.  
  
After Minerva said good night to Larios and Natalie (Dumbledore remaining silent and all), she and Dumbledore walked through the halls of the school. Her quarters were on the way to his, and he walked her there every night. Usually, they were engaged in some sort of conversation, but now, there was nothing that could be said. The same shadow was hanging over their heads, one that could not be lifted until Grindelwald was destroyed.  
  
"He's alive."  
  
When she heard those words escape Dumbledore's lips in a choked whisper, Minerva glanced over at him, surprised to hear him speak. He looked at her, too, with an intense, desperate look in his eyes that she had never seen before. "He's alive," he said again. "Rachel is innocent, and he's alive."  
  
"He framed her," Minerva said.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "I know. But why? Why Rachel?"  
  
"Because it didn't work on you."  
  
He stopped walking, and she did, too. Finally, everything made sense. Grindelwald had been evil all along. Who knew how long he had been deceiving them? "He used us," Dumbledore said. "He used us all."  
  
"You, me, Armando, Rachel, Riddle..." She didn't like thinking Tom Riddle fell into the same category as herself and the others in this situation, but the fact remained that he had been used just like the rest of them.  
  
"The rest of the faculty, Hawkins, McCarthy... everyone," he finished. "He destroyed us from the inside; lied, tricked, turned us against ourselves. Why did he do it?"  
  
"Because that's what evil people do," she said. If there was a better reason out there, then she couldn't think of it.  
  
"This is it," Dumbledore said. "This is what Professor Liem told me all those years ago. He said that someday I would save Hogwarts from a great evil and that there would be signs. That 'great evil' has to be Grindelwald, and I'd say that there's been plenty of signs."  
  
Minerva didn't believe in Divination, but this Professor Liem sounded like he really was a true Seer, and if his prediction was correct, then prophecy was coming true right before their eyes. "Did this Professor Liem happen to predict if you would come out of this alive?"  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "No, he didn't. Not even the most powerful Seer can predict death. There are things that simply cannot be seen, and death is one of them. Don't tell Chaplain I told you that."  
  
She smiled in spite of the situation. "Don't worry."  
  
He didn't know if he was going to survive the encounter with Grindelwald he knew was coming, but he knew that with her support, his chances were a lot higher. He reached for her hands, and they kissed. When they pulled apart, the question that he had wanted to ask her for months came out. "Will you marry me?"  
  
Minerva was so surprised that for a few moments, she couldn't even blink. She had never expected a marriage proposal to be so... spontaneous. She wondered if he was thinking clearly. "Are you serious?" she asked. "I mean... shouldn't you wait until you're not exhausted and -"  
  
"Deranged and neurotic and all around psychologically unstable?" he finished.  
  
"Uh... something like that."  
  
"I could, but believe it or not, I am seeing things more clearly than I ever have before," he said. "I love you. I have always loved you. I want to spend the rest of my life with you, and I plan for that to be a very long time. I have no way of knowing what will kill me someday, but I swear that it will not be Grindelwald."  
  
"Well, in that case, I guess you're stuck with me."  
  
"Is that a yes?"  
  
"Of course it is."  
  
By the time they got around to saying good night, it was morning. 


	18. Destiny's Call

A/N: Gasp! Can it be? Did I actually update? YES!!! Sorry this took so long. Writer's block, bleh. Thanks for being patient. Hope this was worth the wait. The next chapter, if I ever get it up (ha), will be full of action and all that fun stuff. Okay, I'm done. You may read now.  
  
~~~  
  
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN: DESTINY'S CALL  
  
~~~  
  
Hogwarts was starting to suffer from the shortage of teachers. They had lost the headmaster to a murder, the Charms instructor to a promotion and then a staged death, the Arithmancy instructor to an arrest, and the Transfiguration instructor to a promotion. The faculty was trying to make adjustments, but no one could handle the overload for long, and classes were being cancelled left and right. Dumbledore was doing his best to think coherently, but his rage over Grindelwald was impairing his judgement, and he told Natalie Cypher that he wanted her making most of the important administrative decisions for for the time being. The deputy headmistress, like all the other teachers, was suffering from burnout, and she was starting to wonder if it would be a good idea to close the school until Grindelwald was no longer a threat and they could get more teachers to replace the ones they lost. Most of the other teachers agreed with her, and Dumbledore let her have the last word on the final decision.  
  
  
  
A week after saving the prisoners and discovering Grindelwald was alive, Natalie arrived at that decision. It wasn't easy, but she knew it had to be done: Hogwarts needed to be closed. There weren't enough teachers, and no one could concentrate with this shadow hanging over their heads. Not until Grindelwald was dead, more teachers were found, and Rachel Revueltas's name was cleared could school resume.  
  
  
  
Natalie didn't announce her choice immediately. She knew she would have to sooner or later, but there was still the small part of her that was afraid to do it. She almost needed more assurance. That was why she found herself sitting on a couch in the staff room at two o'clock in the morning, drinking a cup of hot chocolate and staring off into space in hopes that someone besides Peeves the poltergeist would show up and offer her some words of wisdom.  
  
Just when she was beginning to believe that no one would come, the door opened. Natalie was surprised. Although she wanted someone to come, she didn't actually believe that anyone would. "Minerva?"  
  
Minerva, too, was surprised to see the other person. "Natalie?" she said.   
  
"What are you doing awake at this ungodly hour?" Natalie asked.  
  
Minerva arched an eyebrow and walked over to her. "I was going to ask you the same thing."  
  
Natalie tapped the sides of her mug, sending ripples through the hot liquid inside. "I couldn't sleep. What's your excuse?"  
  
"I was asleep, but then I woke up and remembered that I left my gradebook in here earlier," Minerva answered. "I knew I would have to come get it before someone like Peeves found it."  
  
"Minerva McGonagall, forgetting things as important as gradebooks?" Natalie said. She clicked her tongue. "My, my, what is this world coming to? And not a word about prepositions."  
  
"What about beginning sentences with the word 'and'?" Minerva asked, and both women chuckled.  
  
"Has anyone ever told you that your obsession with grammar is quite annoying?"  
  
"Frequently." Minerva spotted her gradebook lying on a counter and decided to go get it before she forgot again. She walked back over to Natalie and the couch, flipping through the book to make sure no damage had been done. Upon seeing that it hadn't been altered, she relaxed and sat down again. She sighed, placed her elbows on her knees, and rested her face in her palms. "I don't understand. I'm usually not this forgetful."  
  
"Well, ever since... last week, no one's been acting like they normally do," Natalie said.  
  
"Especially Albus." Minerva shifted full support of her face to her left hand and let her right drop. Her fingers drummed against her knee for a few moments before she spoke again. "It's like... I don't know, almost like he's another person."  
  
"But he did ask you to marry him," Natalie pointed out. "That implies coherent thought."  
  
"Yes, but he's been struggling to act like he knows me ever since," Minerva replied. "I know he's trying, but... but it's like there's a wall in his mind seperating his normal self from the side induced by seeing Grindelwald alive." She paused, then said, "You're going to recommend that the school be closed, aren't you?"  
  
"How did you know?"  
  
"Why else would you be here at this hour?" Minerva asked. Then, she added, "And, well, we've been thinking you might do that for a few days now."  
  
"So much for the element of surprise."  
  
"Are we going to devote all our energy to stopping Grindelwald?"  
  
Natalie nodded. "What else would we do?"  
  
"I know, I know, rhetorical question," Minerva said. "Any idea as to how we're going to do it?"  
  
"None whatsoever." She turned her head and looked at the other woman. "You?"  
  
Minerva shook her head. "No clue."  
  
~~~  
  
Albus Dumbledore couldn't sleep.  
  
  
  
For hours, he had been tossing and turning in his bed, waiting for sleep to come with no success. Sleeping had been difficult for him for the past few months, and almost impossible since finding out Grindelwald was alive, but had consumed a sleeping potion before going to bed almost three hours ago, and not only was he still awake, he was fully alert. A force stronger than exhaustion was at work. Something was going to happen tonight. He didn't know what it was or who it would happen to. All he knew was that something was going to happen, and it was going to be big.  
  
He gave up on sleep, got out of bed, dressed, and then pondered what to do for a moment. He thought about checking on Minerva, but wasn't sure how she would feel about being woken up at two o'clock in the morning by a crazy old man who wanted to make sure she was alive. After thinking about that for a moment, he figured he probably didn't have anything to worry about. He'd felt something when Armando Dippet died, and he was much closer to Minerva than he had ever been to the former headmaster. He and Dippet had been friends, of course, but he'd always been closer to Grindelwald. Dumbledore couldn't help but wonder how Dippet would feel if he knew that it was Grindelwald who killed him.  
  
He decided to pass the time by working on memorizing the dictionary. If nothing else, it would help to take his mind off Grindelwald. He walked over to his bookcase, took out the dictionary, and began searching for where he'd last left off. As he was flipping through the Gs, though, something happened. It felt like something had just hit his head. The pain and surprise were so great that he dropped the dictionary and almost fell to the floor himself. Somehow, a coherent thought made its way through the pain: Grindelwald was here, now, and within the next few hours, someone was going to die.  
  
There had been plenty of signs. It was obvious that the time Professor Liem had spoken of so long ago was at hand. He had to find Grindelwald and stop him, even if it meant losing his own life in the process. There was nothing else he could do.   
  
~~~  
  
After a few more minutes of conversation, Minerva felt she should probably be getting back to bed. She said good night to Natalie ("Good morning is more like it," Natalie replied) and left the staff room. She was making her way through the halls of the school toward her chambers when something stopped her: the sound of approaching footsteps. "Natalie?" she called tentatively, glancing around. Nothing. No response, no more footsteps, nothing. Was she hearing things?  
  
  
  
Minerva stood still for a few more moments, then decided it was probably just sleep deprivation and continued on her way. When she resumed walking, though, so did the footsteps. She stopped walking again. "Who's there?" she asked.  
  
Silence.  
  
She was starting to get angry. Either someone was playing with her mind or she was going crazy. She took two steps, and heard the echo of three. "This isn't funny!" she nearly yelled.  
  
The sound of someone chuckling was heard, and a figure stepped into her line of vision. "Yes, it is."  
  
Her eyes grew wide with shock. "You!"  
  
Quinn Grindelwald smiled cruelly at her. "It's good to see you, too, Minerva."  
  
"Don't even try that, you bastard," she hissed.  
  
He held his arms out and shrugged. "Hey, I tried to help you. It's not my fault that you didn't take it."  
  
She was so furious she didn't even know where to begin. He murdered one of her closest friends, sent an innocent woman to Azkaban for his crimes, and nearly tore her life apart. What made her the most angry, though, was how he pulled his death off. Inducing a death-like state on himself was within the realm of possibility for someone as skilled with charms as he was, but what about the acclobane? That mystery still had yet to be explained.  
  
Minerva realized that thinking probably wasn't the best thing to be doing right now, and decided to take action. She reached for her wand, but the time it took her to get it out was more than enough for Grindelwald to assume the offensive. As soon as her wand was out, he seized her by the wrist. He tried to break it, but he had forgotten that Minerva had been trained in self-defense when she became an Auror, and he only got as far as dislocation before she reacted, planted her elbow in the side of his face, and sent him falling to the floor.  
  
While Grindelwald struggled to his feet, Minerva painfully popped her wrist back into place. It would be all right eventually, but it was useless for the time being. Right now, she had one choice, and that was the one she turned to only as a last resort: run.  
  
She took off sprinting. For a few moments, she contemplated going into her Animagus form, but realized that with a hurt wrist, the transformation would not be advantageous. Grindelwald was coming up fast. She was running out of options.  
  
Suddenly, she felt the force of a Stunning Charm hit her in the back, and everything went dark.  
  
~~~  
  
For reasons unknown to himself, Dumbledore found himself racing to the staff room as soon as he could get back on his feet. When he got there, though, he knew why. Lying facedown on the floor was Natalie Cypher. He feared she had been killed, but when he checked, he saw that she wasn't dead, just stunned. Sighing with relief, he took out his wand and pointed it at her. "Ennervate."  
  
  
  
Natalie's eyes opened, and the first word out of her mouth was, "Grindelwald!"  
  
"What about him?"  
  
"He's here! Now!" She tried to sit up, but her muscles were still stiff from being stunned, so it proved to be more difficult than she anticipated. "You have to stop him," she said. "Look for him! I'll alert the rest of the staff. Go!"  
  
He didn't need to be told twice.  
  
~~~  
  
Half an hour later, everyone at Hogwarts was awake, staff and students alike. Students were instructed to stay in their dormitories, and the teachers searched the school for Grindelwald. They were unsuccessful. The only evidence they had for Grindelwald's appearance was Natalie's statement and Dumbledore's premonition.  
  
  
  
"Nothing," grumbled Geoffrey Poe, the head of Slytherin house, as all the staff members assembled outside the Great Hall after their search of the school. "Not one stinking clue."  
  
"I know he was here," Natalie said. "I saw his face. He stunned me."  
  
"I believe you, Natalie," Poe assured her. "I just don't understand how he could have disappeared so quickly."  
  
"A secret passage, maybe?" Jennifer Hensley suggested.  
  
"Possible, but unlikely," came the reply from Theodore Chaplain.  
  
Suddenly, Warrick Larios realized something. "Where's Minerva?"  
  
Dumbledore nearly jumped as all the pieces came together in his head. "Of course!" he shouted, and ran into the Great Hall.  
  
The other faculty members, not knowing what else to do, followed him.  
  
Dumbledore stopped running when he reached the fireplace and dropped to his knees next to it. "Look at this," he said, taking a pinch of a powdery substance that was sprinkled all over the fireplace. He showed it to the first person that appeared by his side, which happened to be Larios. "Tell me what this is."  
  
Larios caught on at once. "Floo powder," he said.  
  
Dumbledore stood up. "That's what happened," he said. "Grindelwald used this fireplace to escape, and he has Minerva with him."  
  
"That fireplace is connected to the one in the Minister of Magic's office," Natalie said.  
  
Dumbledore nodded. "I know. That means he's in London." He stepped into the fireplace. "I'm going after him. Natalie, you're in charge, and be ready to take on all of your duties in the event that I do not return."  
  
"What do you want me to do?" Natalie asked.  
  
"See about getting a certain individual released from Azkaban."  
  
"But, Albus," Larios said, "unless you kill Grindelwald, no one is going to believe Rachel's innocence."  
  
His eyes gleamed with a mix of fury and determination. "Then that is what I will do."  
  
"You're going alone?" a confused Paul Fenner asked.  
  
"I have to," Dumbledore said, and took a handful of Floo powder from the container mounted on the wall next to the fireplace. "None of you must interfere."  
  
"But he's so powerful," Natalie said. "You could be killed!"  
  
He looked at the powder in his hand, and saw that his fingers were trembling. No one ever said facing destiny was easy, but he knew it had to be done. "My life doesn't matter," he said. "If my fate is to die while destroying him, then so be it." 


	19. A Candle in the Dark

CHAPTER NINETEEN: A CANDLE IN THE DARK  
  
~~~  
  
"Ennervate."  
  
Minerva McGonagall opened her eyes, and was surprised to discover that she was no longer at Hogwarts, but lying on the floor in a moving subway car. She tried to move, but stiff muscles and an aching body made that difficult, and she remained on the floor. "Where am I?" she said, mostly to herself to make sure she was thinking clearly.  
  
"On a subway in London," came the response.  
  
She turned her eyes in the direction of the voice, and narrowed them angrily when she saw who it was. Quinn Grindelwald. "You," she spat. "What do you want?"  
  
"I want you to die a slow, painful death," was the calm reply. "Is that so much to ask?" Grindelwald was sitting in a nearby seat with his legs crossed and his hands resting on his knees. His wand was lying on the seat next to him.  
  
Minerva closed her eyes, then opened them and said, "Why are you doing this? What do you have against me?"  
  
"Nothing; in fact, I rather like you," he said. "It's your friends I don't like. Don't you hate it when some crazed murderer comes along and decides to kill you just because he doesn't like your friends?"  
  
She sighed and mumbled something he couldn't catch.  
  
"Really, Minerva, you should speak up when you say something. I couldn't understand you at all."  
  
She lifted her head and repeated her statement, louder and with more articulation. "You bastard."  
  
Grindelwald merely smiled at her.  
  
"They're going to find you," she said. "You know that, don't you?"  
  
"Of course I do," he said. "That's the idea. When Dumbledore comes for you, I'll be ready."  
  
She clicked her tongue. "It looks like you've thought of everything," she said patronizingly.  
  
"I have." He stood, picked up his wand, and pointed it at her. "Are you a fan of torture?"  
  
"My favorite thing in the world," she replied.  
  
Grindelwald let out a sigh. "I find your sarcasm quite annoying."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
He pointed his wand at her. "You're welcome. Crucio."  
  
~~~  
  
Albus Dumbledore knew Grindelwald wouldn't be in the Minister of Magic's office, but just the same, he became angry when he didn't see his enemy after stepping out of the fireplace. Before he could let his impulses take over, he clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and silently counted backwards from ten in Korean. He couldn't have gotten far, he told himself. It was only a matter of figuring out where he would go.  
  
When Dumbledore opened his eyes, he saw a piece of paper lying on the floor in the middle of the room. Curiosity overtook him, and he walked over to it and picked it up. It was a message addressed to him from Grindelwald. "We have a score to settle," it read. "Meet me at the following location at exactly four o'clock A.M., or she dies. If you do not come alone or if you have called for reinforcements, she dies."   
  
The "following location" in the letter was a subway station not far away. Dumbledore glanced at the clock on the wall. He had a little less than fifteen minutes. He had a feeling Grindelwald wouldn't play by the same rules he gave him in the message, but what choice did he have? If, on the off-chance that Minerva wasn't dead already, she would be soon if he didn't act fast.  
  
~~~  
  
It took Minerva about thirty seconds to regain the ability to think clearly after Grindelwald released her from the Cruciatus Curse. When she did, she lifted her head and glared at him. "You're going to kill me, aren't you?"  
  
Grindelwald shrugged. "Probably. He'll come whether I kill you or not, but we want to give him a chance, don't we?"  
  
"Why don't you think of something new?" she asked. Provoking him probably wasn't the best idea, but at this point, it was the only one she had. If nothing else, it might buy her enough time to think of something better. "The whole damsel-in-distress thing has been done before. I would have expected something more original out of you."  
  
He twirled his wand between his fingers. "Like ripping off your arms and letting you bleed to death?" He paused, then said, "No, that's been done before, too; the epic of Beowulf, when he killed Grendel." He smiled at her. "I know. I could poison you with acclobane. I think I still have some left... no, wait, I don't; I gave the last of that to my dear friend Rachel."  
  
Her blood seethed with anger, and she narrowed her eyes.  
  
Grindelwald leaned forward. "I bet you'd love to hear how I pulled that one off."  
  
She did, actually, but she wasn't about to say so.  
  
He explained anyway. "As you know, acclobane is a deadly poison, and as you also know, they found enough acclobane in my blood to kill an elephant. What you don't know, though, is that for twenty years, I've been building up an immunity to it for just such an occasion. I could drink a sea of acclobane, and I wouldn't get so much as a stomachache."  
  
"But your body-"  
  
"A simple charm," he interrupted. "Anyone could have done it. The acclobane was the trick. It was what threw everyone off. It was also what made Rachel the perfect suspect. A former Potions instructor would have had no problem whipping up a batch."  
  
"What about Benjamin Cypher?" she asked. "Why did you bring him into it?"  
  
"I wanted to kill Natalie," he said nonchalantly. "A kind, friendly, hard-working Muggle-born Hufflepuff who would never hurt anyone... need I continue?"  
  
"So you enlisted the help of the Nazis?"  
  
"They wanted the spy, I wanted the witch," he said. "It was a fair deal."  
  
"Helped by Muggles," Minerva said. "My, my, haven't you sunk to an all-time low?"  
  
Grindelwald arched an eyebrow. "If I recall, your grandfather was a Muggle."  
  
So much for that approach. "Well, it was worth a shot."  
  
"You're right; it was." He pointed his wand at her again. "Enough talk. Crucio."  
  
~~~  
  
The subway station was deserted when Dumbledore arrived. "Grindelwald!" he shouted as he walked through it. "Show yourself, coward!"  
  
Nothing. There was no one. Then, something occured to him. He dashed over to the track. There was silence, but that didn't throw him off. He knelt down and pressed his ear to the rail. Sure enough, there was a train approaching - distant, but still approaching. Grindelwald had to be on it. In that case, he was going to get on it, too. He waited, and gradually, the rumbling grew louder. Then, he saw the light, and for a brief moment, his thoughts were frozen by the bright light and thunderous roar of the train. He remembered where he was just in time to Apparate inside the train before it ran him over.  
  
Dumbledore went to the front of the train first to see if he could stop it. No such luck - the controls were jammed, and if they weren't, they certainly were after he pushed every button and pulled every lever in the vicinity in a futile attempt to make it stop. There was a body lying on the floor without a head. He figured it must have been the conductor. Decapitation seemed to be Grindelwald's trademark. He hoped Minerva still had her head by the time he got to her. If not, not even his higher-than-average level of self-control could keep him from saying two words that would land him in Azkaban.  
  
He began running toward the back of the train, shouting out Grindelwald's name as he went. In a car near the end, he found what he was looking for. Grindelwald was sitting down with his wand pointed at someone on the floor. Logic told him that it was Minerva. "This ends now, Grindelwald!" Dumbledore shouted, getting his attention.  
  
Grindelwald looked over at him and smiled. "Oh, hello, Albus. Glad you could join the fun." He glanced at a clock on the wall. "Hmm... you're early."  
  
Dumbledore reached for his wand and pointed it at Grindelwald. "I've had it with your games," he said, and slowly advanced toward him. "Get away from her."  
  
"No. She's the wild card. As long as I have her, you won't touch me." He stood up, then knelt down next to Minerva. "Put your wand down."  
  
Dumbledore didn't move.  
  
Grindelwald narrowed his eyes. "Put your wand down or she dies."  
  
"I'm not going to fall for that."  
  
"Have it your way, then," Grindelwald said, and pointed his wand at her. "Ava- oof!"  
  
He was interrupted when Minerva's elbow made contact with his chest. Her sudden move distracted him long enough for Dumbledore to assume the offensive. He leapt forward and seized Grindelwald by the throat with his left hand. Grindelwald had youth and speed on his side, but Dumbledore had experience and an abnormal amount of adrenaline in his system. "You are coming with me," he hissed, "and the whole world is going to know how you deceived everyone."  
  
"I don't think so."  
  
Grindelwald placed his left hand on Dumbledore's arm, and then broke the elbow with his right. Pain shot through Dumbledore's body, and for a split second, he could think of nothing else. He knew, though, that no matter what happened, he couldn't let Grindelwald win. He gritted his teeth and focused on his enemy. The pain was just another distraction.  
  
Grindelwald wasn't done yet. His fist made contact with Dumbledore's face, sending him stumbling backwards. Stay calm, Dumbledore told himself as he regained balance. Losing control wasn't going to help anyone. He took a deep breath and faced Grindelwald. "Minerva," he said, his voice raspy, "you have to stop the train."  
  
"No way," she said as she got to her feet. "I'm going to help you."  
  
"You can help me by stopping the train," he replied, never taking his eyes off Grindelwald. "Leave him to me."  
  
She didn't move.  
  
"The track ends in a few miles," Dumbledore said, a little louder. "If you don't stop the train, we all die."  
  
Minerva took a few steps toward the front of the car, but she still wasn't comfortable with the idea of leaving him alone with Grindelwald. "I won't leave you."  
  
"I didn't want to kill you, Minerva, but I can always change my mind," said Grindelwald.  
  
"Shut up," Dumbledore snapped. "You're not going to kill anyone. Minerva, we're wasting time. You've got to stop the train."  
  
She gave up on arguing with him and began running toward the front of the train.   
  
Dumbledore pointed his wand at Grindelwald. "Stupefy!"  
  
Grindelwald, however, saw the Stunning Charm coming, and had no trouble blocking it. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted, and Dumbledore's wand jumped out of his hand. Grindelwald caught it and tossed it over his shoulder. Then he smiled. "You're going to have to try harder than that."  
  
Dumbledore's arm was throbbing. Broken bones were one thing. Broken joints were a whole new level of pain. If he survived, there was no telling how long it would take for him to fully recover. The pain was beginning to cloud his judgement, and he wanted more than anything to kill Grindelwald. Rational thought broke through, though, and he knew that no matter what happened, he couldn't let Grindelwald die. Not yet, anyway.  
  
"You're weaponless," Grindelwald said. "Your elbow's broken. You're in so much pain you can't even think straight. I can see it in your eyes. What are you going to do?" A smug smile crossed his face. "Are you going to kill me?" he asked patronizingly.  
  
"No."  
  
The smile vanished, and for a few seconds, Grindelwald almost looked surprised. "'No'?" he repeated. "Think I'll kill you first?"  
  
"You wish." Stalling wasn't the greatest tactic in the world, but it would give him time to collect his thoughts. Dumbledore knew he should go for the joints, as Grindelwald had, but as much as he hated to admit it, Grindelwald was right: he didn't have a weapon, and he was having trouble keeping his mind on what he had to do. He wanted to kill Grindelwald, but he couldn't.  
  
"She won't be able to stop the train, you know," Grindelwald said. "You've already tried, haven't you? You just didn't want her here to see your death."  
  
He believed in Minerva. If there was a way to stop the train, she would find it. He turned his thoughts back to Grindelwald, specifically, Grindelwald's wand. If he could get that out of the way, he might have a chance.  
  
Grindelwald sighed and glanced at his wand. "The easy way, or the fun way?" he asked himself. "Decisions, decisions." He shrugged and tossed his wand aside. "I'll go for the fun way. Even with that broken elbow, you should be more of a challenge than Armando Dippet."  
  
Dumbledore knew Grindelwald was trying to provoke him. He wasn't going to let it work. He assumed a defensive stance and analyzed the situation. Grindelwald had gotten rid of his wand, which was probably the stupidest thing he could have done. What should he go for first? The knees would be the best, but also the most difficult. He had to start small and work his way up... The wrist. He would go for the wrist.  
  
Just then, something happened that Dumbledore didn't expect - Grindelwald struck first. He faked a low front kick, then came back with a high round kick that made contact with the side of his face. Dumbledore lost his balance and fell into a row of seats, landing on his broken elbow. Pain like none he had ever felt before shot through his system, and for a few seconds, he could think of nothing else. Grindelwald seized him by the collar of his robes and pulled him to his feet. Dumbledore saw his chance. He planted a kick to the knee, and although it wasn't strong or accurate enough to break it, it put Grindelwald in enough pain that he dropped him. Dumbledore landed on his feet and threw a punch at Grindelwald's face with his good arm. For an instant, things were going his way.  
  
His good luck wasn't going to last. Dumbledore threw another punch, but Grindelwald caught it, twisted his arm around, and put him in a headlock. Dumbledore tried to break free, but he was trapped. Grindelwald chuckled and tightened his grip. "Pathetic."  
  
Dumbledore's lungs were on fire for want of oxygen. Just as he was beginning to black out, the train gave a sudden lurch and came to a halt. The two of them were thrown forward. Dumbledore grabbed hold of a seat, and Grindelwald lost his grip on him. He spotted a wand lying not far away - whose it was, he didn't care - and dove for it. He picked it up, rolled over, and pointed it at Grindelwald - but Grindelwald was nowhere to be seen.  
  
Slowly, painfully, Dumbledore got to his feet. A familiar laugh caught his ear. "Minerva must have stopped the train," Grindelwald said, appearing from behind a seat. "Good for her. I didn't think she could do it. She's amazing, isn't she?"  
  
"For once, we are in agreement," said Dumbledore.  
  
Grindelwald laughed again. "'For once'?" he repeated. "Have you forgotten all our years as colleagues already?"  
  
"You're not Professor Grindelwald anymore," Dumbledore said. "You're a traitor. You were a traitor before you killed anyone. You used Minerva to turn Armando and myself against each other, and when he let her go of his own free will, you murdered him and tried to pin it on me. When that didn't work, you faked your death and framed Rachel for everything!"  
  
"That's right," Grindelwald returned. "Rachel was completely innocent, and the whole world just sat back and watched as they sent her to Azkaban! You were the only one that believed her. Not even Minerva did."  
  
Dumbledore didn't reply. Grindelwald's comment was more true than false. Although Minerva didn't come to a decision until after rescuing Benjamin Cypher, she had been leaning more toward Rachel's guilt until that night.  
  
A smile slowly made its way across Grindelwald's face. "You know, something just occured to me. I can kill you, but you won't kill me. You need me alive. It's the only way for them to believe you." He reached into his robes and pulled something out - a wand.  
  
Dumbledore was surprised at seeing Grindelwald holding a wand. He'd thrown it aside. How could he have gotten it back?  
  
Grindelwald noticed the confused look on Dumbledore's face and laughed. "I had Minerva's wand, Albus," he explained. "This is mine." He pointed his wand at Dumbledore for a few seconds, then turned it back to himself. "Two words, and it's all over."  
  
"You wouldn't kill yourself," said Dumbledore.  
  
"Why not? Am I too much of a coward?" Grindelwald asked. "How's this for a paradox? I live, I lose. I die, I win. Personally, death is looking pretty good right now."  
  
"Then why didn't you just stay dead? Why did you come back?"  
  
"Because I'm not done yet," was his answer. "And because it doesn't work that way. You think I'm nothing more than murderer. You're wrong. I'm a messenger."  
  
"'A messenger'?" Dumbledore repeated.  
  
Grindelwald nodded. "Life is nothing. All we have is purpose. It doesn't matter what happens to me now. I've fulfilled my purpose. The ones before me fell, and the ones after me will fall, too, but with every fall they take, a little bit of you will go along with them. Someday, one will emerge stronger than any that came before, and when that day comes, your pathetic little world will crumble and fade away. I am nothing more than the end of the beginning."  
  
"You're wrong."  
  
Grindelwald narrowed his eyes. "Am I?"  
  
"Yes," said Dumbledore. "You can gather all the darkness in the world into one room, and the light of one small candle will penetrate all of it."  
  
Grindelwald knew he had been outwitted, and he was furious. It was time to resort to wands. "Expelliarmus!" he shouted.  
  
Dumbledore managed to block the disarming spell, but while he was doing that, Grindelwald hit him with a banishing charm. He was hurtled toward the back of the car and didn't stop until he hit the wall. Grindelwald began walking toward him, keeping his wand up. "I am going to kill you," he said, "and after I kill you, I am going to send not only your head, but Minerva's head as well to Rachel in Azkaban so she can know that both of you died trying to save her."  
  
Dumbledore didn't know what good dueling with wands was going to be. Not only was Grindelwald the former Charms instructor at Hogwarts, he was also a dueling champion - several times, in fact. Think, he told himself. As long as he was still alive, he had a chance.  
  
However, it looked as though he wasn't going to have much of a chance. He was cornered, and Grindelwald was coming. Dumbledore looked over Grindelwald's shoulder and saw that Minerva had just entered the car. If he didn't do something quick, Grindelwald would kill him and then kill her. He could stand to sacrifice his own life, but not hers.  
  
Grindelwald smiled triumphantly. "AVADA KEDAVRA!"  
  
Minerva tried to scream, but she was too frozen with shock to even blink. When the green light faded, though, it was Grindelwald's turn to be shocked. "No!" he said. "I don't believe it!"  
  
"Believe it!" came a voice from behind. "STUPEFY!"  
  
Grindelwald turned around right as Dumbledore hit him with the stunning charm.  
  
Minerva recovered her senses and raced toward him. Dumbledore half walked, half stumbled in her direction. They embraced each other tightly when they met. The rest of his body was in so much pain that his broken elbow didn't seem quite so bad anymore, and he was so glad to see her that he didn't even care.  
  
"I don't believe it," Minerva said. "How did you survive?"  
  
"It never hit me," he answered. "I Apparated just as he was saying the words. Useful spell, Apparition."  
  
She laughed, and tears of joy appeared in the corners of her eyes. "That's an understatement if I ever heard one."  
  
He had a question of his own. "How did you stop the train?"  
  
"Emergency brake."  
  
Dumbledore smiled. It hadn't even occured to him to look for an emergency brake when he was in there. Obviously, it hadn't occured to Grindelwald, either, because he would have disabled it. He kissed her on the forehead. "I love you."  
  
They kissed each other, and as they did, Minerva realized how weak he was. "You need to get to a hospital," she said when they pulled apart. "Look at you. You can barely stand."  
  
"I will," he said dismissively, "but first..." He pointed his wand at Grindelwald.  
  
"Are you going to kill him?" There was an unmistakable hopeful tone to her voice.  
  
He shook his head. "Not yet. We need him alive to prove Rachel's innocence. Then, he will die." He was starting to succumb to his injuries. Already, he was having trouble standing. Minerva noticed this, and put his arm around her shoulders so he could lean on her. He thanked her and then turned his attention to the body lying on the floor. "Mobilicorpus."  
  
Grindelwald's body slowly rose into the air until it was hovering a few inches off the ground.  
  
"Now, let's get out of here." 


	20. Epilogue

A/N: Well, it's DONE!!! That would make this the second HP story I've finished, the first one being 'Trust Me'... I need to get my lazy butt in gear. ^_^ Thanks to EVERYONE who has read, especially all the wonderful people in the Albus and Minerva group, who put up with not only my stories and my writer's block, but ME as well! Bwa ha ha... and you thought you had it bad. ^_^ Okay, time for the epilogue. It's short, but it's got some pretty deep thoughts. Also, tomorrow (hopefully), I'll be posting another Grindelwald-era fic, tentatively titled '1945'. I rather like it so far. Be sure to look for it. Okay, I'm done. You may read now.  
  
~~~  
  
EPILOGUE  
  
~~~  
  
Dumbledore was checked into a hospital and released late the next afternoon with some stiches, bandages, and a sling on his left arm with strict orders to keep it immobile until further notice. Grindelwald, even though he had not yet been revived, was in a maximum-security holding cell at the Ministry of Magic. The Ministry itself was in a frenzy. Noah McCarthy had travelled to Azkaban to personally see to Rachel Revueltas's release, and upon their return, Grindelwald was to be executed. He wasn't going to be a danger to anyone in his current state, and Tobias Hawkins and other Ministry officials thought it appropriate for her to be able to watch the execution of the man who had nearly destroyed not only her life, but the lives of countless others.  
  
The execution itself was to take place in a courtyard at the Ministry of Magic at sunset. Five other Hogwarts teachers were there when Dumbledore and Minerva arrived: Warrick Larios, Natalie Cypher, Jennifer Hensley, Paul Fenner, and Geoffrey Poe. In addition, Hawkins and two Aurors, Alastor Moody and Tom Riddle, were there with the unconscious Grindelwald. "Glad you could join us," Hawkins said when the two newcomers were escorted into the courtyard. "McCarthy and Revueltas should be here any minute."  
  
Dumbledore and Minerva walked over to the other Hogwarts teachers. Larios asked if they were all right. "Fine," Minerva answered. "A little worse for wear, but we'll be all right."  
  
"What are we going to do about the school?" asked Natalie.  
  
"We keep it open," Dumbledore said. "I'm sure Rachel will want her job back, so I'll step down as headmaster. Jennifer, are you up to being the full-time Charms instructor?"  
  
Jennifer nodded.  
  
"Good," said Dumbledore. "I believe all we have to do now is find a new Arithmancy instructor."  
  
"How can you be so... calm?" Poe asked, searching for the right word. "You just caught the most dangerous wizard in the world, and barely escaped with your life. Are you trying to distract yourself?"  
  
"No, I'm not," Dumbledore replied. "In an hour, Grindelwald will be nothing but a memory, and life will go on. The sooner this is behind us, the better."  
  
"Here they come," Hawkins announced, and all eyes turned toward the entrance.  
  
Coming into the courtyard were Noah McCarthy and Rachel Revueltas. Rachel looked horrible; she had lost a considerable amount of weight, her skin was pale and hung off her bones, and in her eyes was a glint that could only be described as a mixture of fear and fury. Her fellow instructors almost didn't recognize her. She recognized them, though, and when she did, she became visibly happier. She walked over to them as fast as she could, and embraced each of them in turn save for Dumbledore, as she noticed the condition his arm was in.  
  
Grindelwald was to be executed with the Avada Kedavra curse, Hawkins informed them as he walked over. Moody and Riddle revived him, and while they did, Hawkins asked, "Do any of you have anything to say to him?"  
  
No one spoke. Finally, Natalie broke the silence by saying, "I think he's already heard everything we've got to say."  
  
Hawkins nodded. "Probably." He looked at Rachel. "Professor Revueltas, I apologize for what happened to you. I know we can never make up for what happened, but if there is anything we can do to-"  
  
"Minister," Rachel interrupted, "there is something I would like to do."  
  
"Name it."  
  
She glared at Grindelwald, who was being dragged to the center of the courtyard by the two Aurors. "I want to commit the crime I was imprisoned for."  
  
In spite of the situation, Hawkins couldn't help allowing the very smallest of smiles to cross his lips. "Which one?"  
  
Even Grindelwald smiled. McCarthy looked at him and said, "What are you smiling for? You're about to be executed."  
  
Grindelwald chuckled. "Do you really think killing me is going to change anything? Bring back everyone I've killed? Why don't you send me to Azkaban?"  
  
Rachel shook her head. "No. You'd like it there."  
  
The sun was sinking lower in the sky. Hawkins looked at McCarthy. "Give her the wand."  
  
McCarthy looked a little surprised. "You mean - you're going to let her do it?"  
  
Hawkins nodded. "It's the least we can do for-"  
  
"Don't think you're letting me do this for me," Rachel interrupted. "My life wasn't the only one he almost destroyed." She looked over her shoulder back at Dumbledore. "Albus, do you-"  
  
"No, Rachel," he said. "He's all yours." He and Minerva joined hands. Riddle glared at them. They pretended not to notice.  
  
Without any further protest, McCarthy reached into his robes, pulled out a wand, and handed it to Rachel. She thanked him and stepped toward Grindelwald. "On your knees," she ordered.  
  
"Never," he returned.  
  
Moody struck him hard across the back of the head. Grindelwald cringed and slowly sank to his knees. Rachel looked at the two Aurors. "Stand aside."  
  
Riddle and Moody both stepped back.  
  
Grindelwald knew nothing could save him. All he could do was accept his defeat. They had won the battle with him, but others would follow in his footsteps. That was the way it always was, and the way it would always be. The struggle between good and evil would never end. To date, good had always triumphed, but evil always rose again. And someday, there would rise an evil so strong that nothing could stop it. That was the way of things. The good were strong. That was how they always won. The day would come, though, when someone came that was even stronger than all of them put together, and they would be brought to their knees.  
  
"I'm just a messenger," he whispered, mostly to himself.  
  
"Any last words?" Rachel asked.  
  
"Yes." Grindelwald looked at each of them in turn, first Rachel, then Hawkins, Dumbledore, Minerva, Natalie, Jennifer, Poe, Fenner, Larios, Moody, and last, Riddle. He looked at Riddle a bit longer than the rest, and then turned his gaze back to Rachel. "There will be others."  
  
Riddle tightened his already clenched fists.  
  
Rachel pointed the wand at Grindelwald.   
  
He smiled ever so slightly, closed his eyes, and bowed his head.  
  
"Avada Kedavra."  
  
The look on Grindelwald's face after the green light from the Killing Curse faded was not one of terror, as was typically found on those killed by it. His eyes were closed, and he was still smiling. He almost looked content.  
  
Rachel looked at him for a few seconds, then turned away. She returned the wand to McCarthy and walked over to the other teachers. Moody and Riddle picked up Grindelwald's body and carried it out of the courtyard. McCarthy was close behind. Hawkins followed Rachel.  
  
"Well, it's over," said Natalie.  
  
Dumbledore shook his head. "It's never over. He's right, you know. There will be others." He made eye contact with each of them. "We can't stop them from coming, but when they come, we will be ready for them."  
  
~~~  
  
In many ways, Grindelwald was right. Evil did not rest, and no matter what they did to stop it, it would always come. What they could do, though, was fight back and never lose faith in themselves or their cause. The flame of the smallest candle could pierce all the darkness in the world.  
  
~~~~  
  
FINITE 


End file.
